Our One Rule
by 7.06andcounting
Summary: Evie and Steve are back together and everything is great. Until it isn't. Because revenge is a way of life on the North Side and Evie is about to find out exactly how that works. Third story in series, following 'The Only Kind' and 'Our Kind'.
1. Chapter 1

**Third in my Steve/Evie stories, after 'The Only Kind' and 'Our Kind'. Reading those first is not compulsory, but might help! I do not own The Outsiders.**

**This fic comes with a ****strong warning****. It is darker than the first two in the series. Beware of violence, assault on women and non PC (but _period_ correct) attitudes. If you are worried about where it's going, PM and I'll answer questions - it's not all bad stuff, I promise!**

_**As a reminder, the last story finished in early January, 1966.**_

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_**June 1966...**_

"Evie? Babe, you're freakin' me right out. Open the door." Steve rattled the handle again.

I couldn't. I just couldn't. I didn't even remember getting here, or why 'here' was the Curtis boys' bathroom, but now that I was safe behind a locked door, I wasn't opening it. Not even for Steve.

I heard their voices rise and fall, Ponyboy defending himself, telling Steve that I looked bad, but he didn't know what was going on. God love him, for lying. He'd known as soon as he saw me. He's a very smart boy.

Steve was getting louder, Soda kept trying to calm him down. Almost situation normal.

Almost.

"Evie? You better not be behind this door, 'cause I swear to God I'm breaking it down."

More discussion, then scratching and clicks. Someone was figuring out how to pick the lock.

The door flew open and Steve barreled in, only to pull up short, eyes wide, as he saw me, huddled in the corner where the tub met the wall.

"_Babe?"_

Guess he hadn't quite believed Ponyboy.

I closed my eyes.

**xxXxx**

**Four months previously**

_**February 1966...**_

You ever stop and think about how happy you are? Like, for real? Thanksgiving, maybe, if you're into that kind of thing. But day to day, I bet you're like me and you get on with living.

And we had a lot of living to get on with. Maybe I didn't step back and fully appreciate it, but life was pretty groovy all around.

Especially my own personal love life.

Once Steve and I were back together in January, sneaking around began to get old real quick.

Despite the fact that she was super stressed over planning the wedding, I confronted Sarah and told her I intended Steve to stay over with me – _sometimes_. I wasn't moving him in, or anything. Not like what she was subjecting me to, with Square Tony. I thought that made me way more reasonable.

Sarah went off like one of those rockets from Cape Canaveral.

But I had a surprising ally. Ma told her she wasn't to stop me. She told her that times were changing and all that she cared about was whether I was happy. She said to Sarah that she might be getting married, but it was still Ma's house.

I don't know who was more shocked, Sarah or me. But I was quick to capitalize on it, you can believe that. It wasn't even about the sex. I just wanted time with Steve.

Okay, it was a little bit about the sex. But the principle was still there; it was my home too.

Fine, maybe it was a lot about the sex. It was winter. It was cold in the Chevy. So sue me.

Later, on the quiet, Ma explained that she worried about us losing someone, the way she'd lost our Dad so young, and she knew that I loved Steve and he loved me. That was all that mattered to her. Way to embrace the sexual revolution, Ma!

Eddie Randle was another matter. If he hadn't caught us together, he might never have known. He was on the road for his job, sometimes for days at a time, although I was unclear on exactly what he did. Something to do with checking on supplies for new roads, or stretches of road that needed repairing. It took him all over, so we could have kept quiet just fine. But Steve preferred to exercise his right to piss off his dad and Eddie found it equally acceptable to try and lay down the law.

In the end, all Eddie could do was make the odd snide comment. I knew he probably thought I was easy. He did not, however, make the mistake of saying so to Steve's face. But, weirdly, it mattered to me.

It took a little time to unpick my feelings about Steve's parents, when we got back together and I met both of them for the first time.

I'd been more than prepared to hate Eddie; from the first time I understood that Steve's regular couch surfing at the Curtis's was because of him, I'd harbored evil thoughts. How could anybody treat my Steve like that? And then, after the revelation that he'd hidden Carol's letters, that he'd lied about her, my disgust had pretty much matched Steve's.

Which was why I found it so hard to accept, when I realized I was beginning to like Eddie.

Oh, he was a nightmare to share a house with, I could see that plain enough. I could also see why Steve had grown into doing his own thing, living his own life.

It was funny in a way, that we were both so independent, for opposite reasons. Me, because Ma had never had rules for me. Steve, because his dad had so many, it was just easier to ignore them wholesale and stay away from home as much as possible.

I thought it was pretty obvious that Eddie's stranglehold on the house, needing everything exactly so, was a reaction to the fact that he'd had no control at all over the biggest thing in his life – his wife falling out of love with him and leaving him.

But, then again, I was no shrink. Maybe his rigid ways were what set her off in the first place.

Either way, between them they'd screwed Steve over, and it was a miracle they hadn't screwed him up. But weirdly, as we got to know each other, I couldn't help liking Eddie. See, Steve looked like his mom, but the things I liked about him – his fierce emotions, his sarcastic humor - were pretty much all things I could see in Eddie too. Not that either of them would ever want to hear that.

And then they got ill. Both Eddie and Steve got the 'flu in February, right after Sarah's wedding. Dozens of people were sick; all the Curtis boys, one after the other. It was all over town.

Somehow, I escaped, which meant I ended up looking after Steve and his dad. I didn't see myself as any kind of Nurse Nancy, but I did the whole 'wet facecloth on the forehead' deal. I even fed them chicken soup. Didn't make it, but I heated it up.

I guess that began to rehabilitate me in Eddie's eyes. Maybe even sluts get a second chance. Afterwards, when he called me 'little darling' it wasn't a sarcastic sneer, it was almost affectionate.

I think for one weekend, Two-Bit and I were the only ones not sneezing and puking. He called by Steve's house, looking for a drinking partner and found me, the only one on their feet. He took one look at Steve - lying on the couch under a blanket - and backed out into the entryway. I followed him.

"He looks like shit," Two-Bit said loudly, as discreet as ever. Steve coughed and told him to go to Hell.

"Nah, it'll just be full of people who look half dead, like you," Two-Bit called back.

"How come you didn't get sick?" I asked him.

"Superior genes," he said, confidently. "Same as you, Tink." He winked. "Come out to play, huh? There's only me and you left in the world. That deserves a drink, if nothing else."

"I can't!" I was pretty sure he was teasing. "What if Steve needs something?"

"I do. I need...something," Steve sounded real pathetic.

"Oh, for the love of God." Two-Bit rolled his eyes, calling out gleefully, "Randle, I'mma take your woman dancin'. What you gonna do about it? Fight me?"

"Go 'way," was Steve's feeble response.

I hit Two-Bit on the arm. "Stop being mean, he feels awful."

"Ew!" Two-Bit shook his sleeve where I'd slapped him. "Have you been touching that specimen in there?"

"If you didn't get it yet, I don't think that put you in danger."

"You got anything to eat?" Two-Bit switched subjects unexpectedly and marched into the kitchen. I caught up with him as he investigated the ice box. He held out a bottle of beer with a wicked grin.

"I have no problem telling Eddie who took that, when he's feeling better," I said. Two-Bit put the beer back and backed away, hands held up, in surrender. I made him coffee instead.

"Hey," he said, as he lounged at the kitchen table, "I forgot to ask. You hear about Sylvia's brother?"

My heart sank. "Buzz?" I asked, imagining him in some horrible prison riot or something equally dramatic.

"Nah. The little one. The one you rescued."

"Trey? Did he get beat up again?"

About a week or so before, Steve and I had been cruising around, busy doing nothing, still high on the fact that we were together again. We spotted Two-Bit walking and slowed down to pick him up. Turned out he'd been over to Kathy's, where she was feeling horrible with the 'flu that had laid most of her family low. He hopped into the Chevy with us, made us laugh with impressions of Marshall whining about his sore throat and stuffed nose.

"Nothing sadder than a hood with the sniffles," he drawled. "You should see him, his hair all droopy... Hey now, what's going on here?" Two-Bit voiced all our thoughts as we turned into a quiet street to see a car drawn up at an awkward angle across the road. There was a knot of figures jostling on the sidewalk.

"Dunno. Looks like Frank Campbell's car." Steve shrugged. He wasn't sufficiently interested to stop, but just as we pulled level, the fight spilled into the road and Steve had to slam on the brakes.

It was pretty uneven for a fight, four or five guys surrounding just one.

"Someone got on Frank's bad side," Two-Bit commented, leaning forward over the front seats to see better. "The Shepard boys've been quiet lately."

Yeah, I thought, without Tim to prod them into action, they'd been laying low. Interesting that it was Frank Campbell that everyone spoke about, as holding the fort, while Tim was gone, not Curly Shepard. I mean, he was younger, but that hadn't stopped Tim taking over the gang, back in the day.

Steve was cussing as he hit reverse, to back up away from the ruckus. And then one of the guys moved, in the process of delivering an almighty kick to the poor guy on the ground and I saw that it was Trey lying there, all curled up.

I yanked open my door and would have been outside, but Steve grabbed my arm.

"What the hell? Evie!"

"That's Trey they're kicking the living shit out of!"

"None of ours," Steve said firmly. "It's Shepard gang business."

"Steve. Two-Bit. _Please_." I looked at both of them. Now my door was open we could hear the insults and the cat calls – and even some of the blows connecting.

"Tink, he's right. It ain't our business." Two-Bit said calmly. "Trey knew it would come to this, when he double crossed Tim."

"It did already 'come to this'," I snapped. "They jumped him before, more 'n once. You know that. How is it okay that it's happening again?"

"It ain't 'okay', it's just how it is." Steve said.

I glanced from him to the small crowd, just as Frank yanked Trey up, only to smash his elbow into his face and drop him again. I pulled my arm away from Steve and climbed out of the Chevy.

Okay, I wasn't thinking. It made no kind of sense for me to get in the way of the flying fists and feet, but that's exactly what I did.

"Leave him the fuck alone!" I yelled, shoving one of the gang in the side to move him – not very original, but, like I said, not much thought had gone into this. As I jumped into the gap made by the surprised gang member, I realized belatedly it was Curly Shepard that I'd pushed. I actually stood over Trey, one foot either side of his legs as he lay on the road.

"What the hell?" snarled the lanky figure of Frank Campbell, reaching for my arm – to grab me or shove me I wasn't sure, but neither happened, because an almighty roar of:

"Don't you fuckin' well lay a finger on her!" erupted from Steve, who had appeared behind me, with Two-Bit close behind him. Steve threw his arms around me and passed me bodily back to Two-Bit, squaring up to Campbell once he was free of me.

The Shepard boys all looked seriously surprised by this turn of events and they shot glances from one to the other, waiting for someone to tell them what to do.

"Randle, what gives?" Frank Campbell had the nerve to stretch his fingers, like he was the one who was hurting – while Trey coughed weakly and tried to sit up. I shook off Two-Bit's hand and crouched down and helped Trey. He caught his breath as I made him stand up. I pushed him gently behind me.

"You lousy cowards!" I rounded on the gang. "Does it take all of you to beat up on one kid?"

"He's a traitor, he deserves whatever he gets." Curly passed judgement with a snarl.

"Fuck your stupid gang loyalty. He stood by his brother. He was loyal to his brother." I poked Curly hard in the chest. "Even you must recognize that!"

Give him his due, Curly looked a little confused, which was probably as close I was going to get to him understanding my point.

"This broad in charge of your outfit now, Randle?" Frank smiled lazily. "Nice to see who wears the pants in your relationship."

I realized, too late, what a position I'd put Steve – and Two-Bit – in. _Shit._

"Screw you, Campbell," I snapped. "Ain't nothing to do with these two. I'mma take Trey from here." I backed Trey up some, away from the crowd. He stumbled a little. I wasn't exactly sure how far I was going to be able to walk him. I told him to go get in the Chevy.

"Pussy. Hiding behind a girl." One of the gang smirked. "Let's slap her out the way."

"No. We don't do that. Hitting chicks. Tim don't like that," the huge guy behind Curly spoke up, his voice a slow rumble.

"Nobody's touching her." Steve bristled.

Frank chuckled. "Okay. We're done, boys. Baby Richardson'll keep for another day. And we wouldn't wanna get Randle in trouble with his boss, would we?" he added slyly.

My heart sank.

Steve punched Frank.

Frank punched Steve.

Two-Bit yanked back the one who'd suggested slapping me, to stop him jumping on Steve's back and sent him to the ground with a slug to the gut, then he was reeling himself from a shove from the massive guy.

I stood in the road, horrified, frustrated and very, very angry.

A car swung around the corner of the street and, finding his way blocked by cars and a mess of bodies, the driver leaned hard on the horn. That brought the fight to a pause. Another car came from the other direction.

The Shepard boys must have decided there was too big an audience now, because they peeled away, slinking back to their car.

Two-Bit and Steve came back towards me, panting and scowling.

"Do you want me to drive?" I asked, watching Steve flex his right hand and inspect his knuckles. He shot me the blackest of looks and flung himself into the driver's seat. I scooted in quick as Steve glanced at Trey in the back seat, his lip curling in disgust. He hit the gas and we took off at speed.

I asked Trey, who was wiping the blood off his split lip with the back of his hand, if he wanted to go home. He shook his head. "Sylvia's?" I suggested. He shrugged. He looked like he was trying not to cry, making me wonder how bad he was hurting.

I turned back to Steve, opened my mouth to ask him to head over to Sylvia's place.

He kept his eyes fixed on the road. "I heard," he growled, before I could speak. We went the rest of the way in silence.

"Do you want me to come in?" I watched Trey ease out of the car, outside Sylvia and Danny's pad. He shook his head.

"'S' okay. I got a key, if she ain't home. Uh..." He paused, embarrassed. "Thanks, yeah?"

Two-Bit had been watching Steve carefully. He slid over to the open door, flicking his eyes between us. "Think I'll catch a drink, or three, while I'm in the neighborhood. I can tell Sylvia the kid's at hers."

I didn't blame him for getting out while he could.

Steve took off again.

I sat, feeling the weight of his silence, for as long as I could. But eventually, I had to say something. I turned towards Steve but he beat me to it, snapping:

"You do realize I never had a beef with Frank Campbell? You do realize him and me never had any problem before today?"

I started to answer, but Steve rolled on:

"You also get that I'm now associated with the kid who ratted out Tim Shepard? The kid who double crossed the whole fuckin' Shepard gang? Who I just pulled outta their revenge beating?"

"_I_ pulled him out-" I tried to interject.

"And on top of all of that - as if that wasn't enough - you just made me fucking rescue your old boyfriend's brother!"

"Sylvia's brother, too," I objected weakly. "I didn't do it for Buzz, I'm still friends with Sylvia..."

Steve made some kind of growly noise deep in his throat. He threw the Chevy around a corner, making me grab the edge of the seat.

"I don't see what was so wrong," I insisted. "Ain't it some kind of rule? You '_stick together_'? '_You take up for your own'_."

"He ain't one of my own."

"Well, he is mine." I folded my arms crossly, although I was poised to grab the seat again, if he continued driving like a maniac. I pushed the point. "So I should just ignore, if I see Ponyboy being kicked to death on the street? Because I'm friends with Soda, not him?"

"Not the same."

"It is to me." I was getting more pissed off by the second.

"You. Are. A. Chick." Steve said, like it should be the most obvious thing in the world and the end to all arguments, ever. "You shouldn't be getting involved at all, savvy?"

"Great. Fine. I'll remember that if I ever see you get jumped."

He ignored me. So I pushed the point.

"In fact, I'll just stand and watch. Maybe cheer a little as you get your head kicked in."

Steve ground his teeth, snarled his comeback, "I'll swing by the Shepard hang out right now, shall I? Let Campbell finish what he started? What _you_ started?"

"Sure. Let's do it. Make a left up here."

"Fine."

"Fine."

We rode in silence for a couple of minutes. By this point I had no clue where he was driving to. I bit my lip, starting to cool down some.

"Steve?" No answer. "Steve? Are you still mad at me?"

"Yup."

I waited another minute or so.

"Where are we going?"

He looked around. I realized he'd just been going through the motions of driving, no destination in mind. He took a sharp right turn, then pulled over.

"I'm sorry." I slid over to him, but he wouldn't let me put me my arm around him. He shook his head.

"No. You ain't kissing this better. I got a fat lip because of you. It hurts."

"Well, the fat lip might be down to me, but the fat head is all your own!" I snapped, annoyed that he knocked my apology back. He looked at me, surprise and irritation both showing on his face. I glared back. "You didn't get in that fight because of me helping Trey. You didn't like Campbell saying you were pussy whipped, is what started it."

"And you don't think that's because of you? Jeez, Evie, you are _so_ –"

I wasn't sure if he was lost for vocabulary or so angry he couldn't get the words out.

"..._so_..." he was losing it for real now. I worried that I'd pissed him off, past the point of reason.

Steve lunged at me, pushing me back against the seat, kissing me hard.

"..._so_ freaking _hot_ when you do these crazy things. Babe, you just took on the fucking Shepard gang, you know that? You are far out."

I kissed him right back, happily. "Are you not mad at me anymore?" I asked, between kisses.

"Oh, I'm mad. Mad and horny. It's an interesting combination." He chuckled deep, right next to my ear.

A sharp rapping on the window, accompanied by a sharper, "Young man!" made both of us jump.

Several faces were peering into the car.

"What on earth...?"

"Did you ever see...?"

Apparently, we'd pulled up outside some kind of church and just in time for the congregation of nosy old ladies to come spectate our make out session. I yelped a little and Steve turned the engine over, leaving the shocked faces behind.

I was smiling at the memory of how that afternoon ended, as I waited for Two-Bit to answer me about Trey and whatever news he had about him. I lost the smile when he said:

"He enlisted."

"He what? He's only seventeen."

Two-Bit shrugged.

"But why would he?" I couldn't get my head around it. The draft was one thing, the awful chance that your name would come up, like some kind of lottery from Hell, but to _choose_ to go? "They won't send him to Vietnam, though? He's too young, right?"

Two-Bit shrugged. "I guess he figured he had nothin' to lose. He was getting beat on fairly regular, might as well be paid for it."

Oh, God. I'd have to get over and see Sylvia as soon as I could.

Once I convinced Steve he wasn't going to die from the 'flu, if I left him for a little while, I headed on over to Sylvia's the next day.

I didn't see quite so much of her these days – Steve didn't want to spend all his free evenings down at the bar. But when she was available, we got together and had a girls' night. She and Danny were so tight, even Steve had no worries that she'd be on the make and dragging me with her. And more often than not, we hung out at her pad, anyway.

Sylvia and Danny had a little apartment down the block from the bar. I think he'd inherited it too, same time as he got the bar. It was over a furniture store, which meant no downstairs neighbors to gripe about the music being too loud at night.

I liked Danny. He was kind of brash, but he was totally up front. They suited each other. But it was still weird for the guys, to see Sylvia with someone who wasn't Dallas. That, and the fact that Danny was a little older, meant they didn't want to hang out with them, and probably never would.

I couldn't believe it when she told me Trey had already gone. Caught the bus immediately they took his papers in. I stared at Sylvia in disbelief.

She waved her match to put it out. She sounded tired.

"What else could he do, Evie? He couldn't even go to the movies. If it wasn't the Shepard boys, it was the Kings. He got beat up so many times."

"But..he ain't even eighteen yet."

"I know. Mom signed something. I think even she knew it was the only thing left for him." Sylvia pulled a face. "I mean, he dropped out some time in ninth grade – I don't think he passed it anyway. What the hell would he do? Construction? We don't know no one in a union an' I can't see Trey doing that..."

I wondered if she could see him in uniform.

I wondered who was going to tell Buzz and how much he would blame himself, for putting Trey in the position in the first place.

Sylvia asked how things were with me and Steve. I told her everything was groovy. Apart from the fact that he was the world's neediest patient.

"Glory, that's all men, darlin'. They turn into babies as soon as they get the sniffles. Half the customers want a nurse more'n a barmaid at the moment." She rolled her eyes at the weakness of the male gender.

When I left Sylvia's, I walked up the street a little way to where I'd parked the Chevy. I turned the engine over and checked real careful, before I pulled away. I didn't drive that often that it felt like second nature to me, I still liked to make sure I was doing it right. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with driving careful, it's just sensible.

Of course Steve had said I could borrow the Chevy.

Well, he didn't say I _couldn't_... Okay, he was right in the middle of a coughing fit when I asked, but I'm sure he could have got his point across if he was really against the idea.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who came on board with this one. Call me insecure, but feedback matters. PM by all means, if you don't want to leave a review, but please let me know what you think! **

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_**June 1966...**_

Steve crouched down in front of me, his face so full of concern that I wanted to look around and see what the problem was. Then I remembered it was me. There was whispering from the bathroom doorway, where Ponyboy and Soda hung back.

"Evie? Babe, what the hell happened to you?" The restraint in Steve's voice was superhuman, I knew he had to be wanting to shout. Instead, he practically whispered and when he put his hand out to touch me it was slow and gentle as he lifted my face towards him. His eyes were no good at hiding his distress though. "_Holy fuck. Who did this?_" He ran a washcloth under the cold water, barking at Soda to fetch some ice.

I let him sponge the blood from my lip and chin. I thought he was shaking, but I realized it was me. Only when he wrapped the cloth around the ice cubes and held it to my cheek did I figure out I probably had a black eye coming.

"You wearin' Pony's jacket, there?" he asked. I nodded. I'd kept an arm around myself the whole time, protecting my side. Hiding the damage to my shirt. "You wanna take it off now?" He made as if to help me. I shrank back a little, shaking my head. I couldn't do that, because then he would see...

Frantic whispering preceded Soda quietly insisting that Steve come out of the bathroom to hear something that Ponyboy had to say.

"...shirt torn...buttons missing...bloodstains..."

_Yeah_, I knew what I looked like.

The front door snapped back and the voices started up again, like last time, only now the bathroom door stood open. Finally one voice overrode the others and they shut up.

"Hey, Evie." Darry filled the door frame. He seemed to realize that, as he came close, and he crouched lower, made himself smaller, to talk to me. "Listen, you're freaking these idiots out. You wanna tell me what's goin' on?" I shook my head, which was a mistake. The world span a little. "That's okay, that's alright, if you don't wanna talk," he said, real calmly. "But we gotta know if we need to call the cops. Kinda looks like someone jumped you and that ain't cool, y'know."

"No." I wasn't sure if I'd spoken aloud, but he reacted, so I guessed I had.

"No? No cops? That what you mean?"

I nodded. Darry looked thoughtful.

"I'm a little outta my depth here, honey. I patched up these guys plenty after a fight or two. But I ain't never dealt with a girl fight."

"I ain't been fightin'." I didn't want him to think that. My voice sounded hoarse.

"So, someone did this? A guy did this? You got mugged?" When I didn't react, he continued, even more quietly, "Some guy jumped you?" I closed my eyes. Then I opened them because I could see _his_ face.

Darry watched me carefully. "I'mma fetch Sarah," he said decisively.

"No."

"Evie, honey. Please. You gotta give me something."

"Don't tell Steve," I whispered.

"Don't tell him what? Hey, come sit in the other room, huh? This ain't very comfortable." Darry held out his hand, standing up. I reached for it, but as I stood, the world went black.

**xxXxx**

**Three months previously**

_**March 1966...**_

When is an anniversary not an anniversary?

Or, more specifically, is it still an anniversary if you were broken up for a good spell of the year in question?

This had been on my mind a lot, as it got to be the middle of March.

One whole year since the school dance. Since Sandy got her wish and her dream date with Sodapop Curtis. One whole year since I thought she'd stuck me with the date from Hell.

But where was she now? Freaking Florida, about to give birth to a kid that she'd conceived for totally the wrong reasons. Out of state and out of our lives.

And where was I?

I was looking at my boyfriend in disbelief, as he pulled the Chevy into the lot at the Dairy Queen.

"What?" Steve said, defensively, reacting to my raised eyebrows. "I can't be thirsty?"

I said nothing. It would have been too freaky for him to read my mind, so it had to be coincidence, nothing more. But then, as we walked from the car, he tucked his arm around me and steered me away from the door and around the side of the building.

After he kissed me, Steve gave me a challenging look, waiting for my reaction. He knew that I knew.

"No school dance first?" Was all the acknowledgement I gave him.

"There's one next weekend." He smirked. "We ain't going."

Surprise, _not_. Dancing was never going to be Steve's favorite activity, plus he wouldn't spend a second longer than he had to on school grounds these days. He was still going, he'd graduate along with the rest of his class, but he was already done with school in his head. I was pretty sure that if the principal hadn't insisted on some damn attendance average being mandatory for graduation, Steve would barely be attending class.

But none of that mattered for the moment, because the dance one year ago was incidental to what happened afterwards.

I relented. "I can't believe you remembered." I knew he wanted me to be impressed. Truthfully, I was.

"Not remember the first time I kissed you? As if." He held me tight, leaning us against the wall. "I don't reckon people forget being caught in a tornado, neither."

"Are you comparing me to a destructive force of nature?" I bridled.

"Hell, my life ain't been the same since we got together. In a good way," he added hurriedly, as I started to glare. "I just mean I ain't ever gonna forget. You an' me, Evie. That's how it is. You know that."

Jeez, he was in some rare mood tonight. That was about as romantic as I'd ever heard him.

"Yeah." I hugged into him. "You an' me. I dig that. And I dig that you brought us here."

"Next year too, huh? I dunno what we'll do if they ever tear this place down."

_Next year?_ _Ever?_ I felt like my heart might really, truly, burst from happiness. We talked about things in general conversation, like, '_After graduation we can do this or_ _that'_ or, '_We should go back to that place when it's summer again._' Always the assumption was there, that we'd be together at that point in the future. But that was the first time Steve had put a definite timescale on it. He expected us to be together still for next year's anniversary? There was no way to express how much I loved that idea.

But I could tell him how much I loved him. So I did.

"Yeah, babe, me too." He grinned at me. I poked him in the ribs, but I couldn't help returning the grin. This response was more in character and I figured that the romantic interlude was over. Hell, I wasn't complaining.

"I think we've been out here long enough," I said, pulling away from him. "People are gonna wonder what we're doin'. Did you really want a drink, or was that an excuse?"

As we came around the corner of the building, a dark sedan pulled out of a space opposite. The occupants stared at us, their heads turning as the car slid past, and Steve tensed up, his fists slowly closing. They went right on, out onto the street.

"Jeez, I thought that was Tim, for a second," I said. Curly Shepard had been driving the car.

"He wishes," scoffed Steve, slinging his arm around my shoulders. "Frank's the only dangerous one left in that outfit."

We ducked inside the building, looking for a free table as we waited at the counter. With the memory of that first time brought back into focus, we both looked over to the right.

Stupid really, we'd been back there dozens of times in the intervening year with no problem. Probably even sat at the same table, without even thinking about it. But the way Steve's jaw tightened told me that he was picturing the night of the school dance, when we'd joined the others over there.

Dallas had been alternating bickering and making up with Sylvia. Johnny had been sitting with Two-Bit; he'd been embarrassed by Two-Bit's smutty comments and blushed, I remembered.

I squeezed Steve's hand. Six months was nothing. Not that I knew how long would be enough, for the pain of losing the guys to fade. Once or twice, when I woke up and Steve was staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep, I thought about that. The pain of seeing Dallas shot in front of him. Would it ever fade? Maybe not.

We turned left, found seats in a booth as a couple of girls got up to leave. Steve draped his arm across my shoulders as he played with his drink. I sometimes thought he spent half his life one handed, because he always had an arm around me. For a guy who found it hard to say how he felt, he sure demonstrated it loud and clear. Once I'd thought it was possessive in a bad way, meant only as a 'keep off' sign to other guys. These days I was happy to accept that it was a genuine sign of affection.

Steve yawned widely.

"Did you not sleep? You've been yawning since you picked me up," I commented.

"The old man was coughing half the night. I could hear him, even with my pillow over my head."

"Still? He see the doctor yet?" It was weeks since they'd both had the 'flu.

Steve shrugged.

I made myself a mental reminder that I should nag Eddie about getting checked out. Surprisingly, he would probably listen to me.

Steve nudged me out of my thoughts.

"Here comes trouble." He rolled his eyes.

Soda paused just inside the door, casting his eyes around until he spotted us. His face lit up in his trademark grin and he made his way over, closely followed by his usual shadow.

"Hey. Saw the Chevy as we was driving past," he explained, as they slid into the opposite seat. "You guys eatin'? Me an' Pony are starving."

"Did you just get off work?" I asked. He said yes, and that Darry was spending the evening at the gym over at the Y, so they were fending for themselves.

"Ever hear of cooking?" I teased.

"I cook! Better'n you," Soda spluttered indignantly. "In fact, I –" He shut up suddenly, looking past my shoulder, and if I didn't know him well, I'd have said he got a little flustered. I twisted around, Steve and Ponyboy looking too, as we scanned for whatever had startled Soda.

"Oh...um, hey," mumbled the smooth talking, fast chatting, ladies' man, Sodapop Curtis.

"Hi." The girl smiling back at him was a pretty brunette. "Thanks again. I wasn't even five minutes late for work, the car was perfect."

Soda nodded. Quite a lot.

"And it didn't do that thing again, the noise. Not once. You must've fixed it right up."

He nodded some more. She smiled expectantly. But he said not a word and after a long pause she smiled again, a little less brightly. "Well, I should be going-"

"_Plugs_." Soda blurted randomly. "_Dirt_. _In the_..." He waved his fingers in a meaningless gesture.

I caught Ponyboy's expression from the corner of my eye. He was looking at Soda like he'd been replaced by a Martian, one with only a slim grasp of human speech at that.

Steve started to shake with repressed laughter. I squeezed his thigh, hard, but his attention was well and truly on the spectacle of Soda gasping like a goldfish out of water.

The girl bit her lip, I guess she figured a girl can smile too much.

"Can I buy you a drink? To say 'thanks'?" she asked.

"Yes." The word shot out of his mouth like a bullet and Soda was up on his feet as fast, almost bumping into her. "Uh, I mean, please, uh, thank you," he added lamely.

She finally seemed to notice we were there. "Oh, I'm sorry. I don't wanna interrupt." She had dark brown eyes, almost black. Real pretty, and not in an over painted way. "My car kept dying and your friend just about saved my life, and my job."

"'_Plugs_', by the sound of it," Steve said, mock-seriously.

Ponyboy did the aimless hand gesture, nodding. "And '_dirt'_." He copied Steve's tone.

"Yeah. '_In the_...'" Steve matched the finger waving.

Soda realized what they were doing and glared. He got some kind of a grip, turned to the girl and told her that she wasn't interrupting anything and he'd like to buy her a drink. They were batting the argument gently back and forth over who would buy, as they walked away and he gave Steve and Ponyboy the finger behind his back.

Steve snorted with laughter and Ponyboy grinned. Then his face fell.

"Aw, hell, he's got the money for my dinner."

"Steve will buy you dinner." I smiled.

"Steve won't," Steve contradicted me quickly. I pulled a face at him.

"Don't be mean."

"What's mean about it? He ain't my problem. How is it down to me to feed him?" As he griped and moaned, Steve was also digging in his pocket for a couple of bucks that he tossed towards Ponyboy, without taking his eyes off me. I smiled sweetly at him, letting him know that I knew he was a nice guy underneath. Steve widened his eyes, letting me know he didn't approve of that assessment.

"Bring me change, kid. You ain't that hungry," he growled at Ponyboy.

"You have what you want," I said firmly. Ponyboy nodded at me and disappeared towards the counter.

"Why d'you do that?" I asked, sliding my hand around Steve's neck and pulling him almost close enough for a kiss. "Why'd you gotta be mean to the poor kid?"

"I ain't mean," he insisted, almost kissing me in return.

"And why do you always contradict whatever I say?"

"I don't," he said, deliberately. His mouth twitched with the effort of not smiling.

"You just like being ornery."

"Uh huh." He held me tighter but still didn't kiss me.

"You just like being downright annoying."

He nodded. He was so close it probably looked like we were kissing to anyone who glanced our way.

"You're doin' it now."

This time he let himself smile, but it was a smile of pure wickedness and right as I went to kiss him for real, he pulled away and sat up straight, leaving me to catch my breath.

I shook my head. I was absolutely right in my assessment, he was ornery, annoying and...so hot he made me forget I was in public.

"I ain't spending this date with Pony," Steve stated.

"I don't think he asked you."

"Ha, ha. You wanna go up to the lake? For old time's sake?"

"Oh my God. I remember you trying that exact same thing this time last year. Do you ever think of anything else?"

"Cars."

"You said it, Randle. 'Sex and cars', that's you. Or should it be the other way around? Cars first?"

"Come up to the lake and I can combine both my interests," he leered theatrically.

"Too cold."

"You ain't."

"_The weather_. The weather is too cold."

"Too cold for what?" Ponyboy arrived back at the table, dutifully handing back the spare change.

Steve snorted, sliding the coins into his pocket. "Tell ya when you're older."

Ponyboy rolled his eyes. "I ain't a little kid."

"Oh, okay. What it is, is this: Evie thinks it's too cold for us to go up to the lake and get a little back seat action goin' -"

"Steve!" I was furious and shoved him, hard. Ponyboy choked on a mouthful of his barbecue sandwich, his eyes watering.

Steve looked at me, all innocent, like he didn't understand the problem. I mentally added 'infuriating' to the list I'd been making. I did give him grief, when he treated Ponyboy like a baby, but that didn't mean I thought he should share our personal lives with him.

I soon started smiling again though, because Ponyboy caught his breath, took a swallow of Pepsi and frowned thoughtfully as he spoke up,

"Well, I can see why she'd be worried. You know, stuff shrinks in the cold, an' if it's not that big in the first place..."

I laughed and Steve went a shade of furious that was real entertaining to see.

"You better have your track shoes on, kid," he warned, clenching his fist.

Ponyboy smiled, a real Sodapop smile, a 'pleased with himself' smile that transformed his usually downcast expression into something much more devilish. Good. I hoped he was starting to stand up for himself.

"Hey, you ready to go?" Soda reappeared. "I need to take you home, Pony."

Ponyboy held up his half eaten sandwich.

"Can you eat it in the truck? I'm goin' out." Soda was bouncing on his toes, beckoning Ponyboy to hurry up.

"Weren't you hungry just before?" I asked.

"Huh? Oh. Nah. I'mma maybe eat later, with Joanne." He pulled on Ponyboy's sleeve.

"_Joanne_?" Steve and I repeated together. Soda beamed.

"That was Joanne. Met her at work this afternoon."

"She's pretty." I watched him as I said it. And I swear to God, I saw Sodapop Curtis go a little pink.

"You think?" he said, not half as casual as I'm sure he intended. Ponyboy had just thrown his food down his throat and he shot a surprised glance at Soda, as he grabbed his drink and slid out from the seat. He was as suspicious as I was, about Soda's weird response to this girl.

When they'd gone, I asked Steve what he thought about it. He shrugged.

"Soda sees Girl. Soda gets Girl. Situation normal."

"Come on, he about swallowed his own tongue when she showed up. That ain't normal."

Steve yawned. "He likes her, I guess." He stood up. "Come on, let's split."

I couldn't believe he wasn't more curious. Soda had calmed down some, compared to how he was right after Sandy. After he wrecked that car at the drag race he hadn't had much choice - in the early weeks, Darry really had grounded him, as far as he could. Didn't stop the girls coming around the house, but Soda did start acting less crazy. He still went through girls pretty quick, never anything but one nighters. This was the first time I'd seen him act so interested.

I wanted to ask Steve what Soda had been like the first time he'd seen him with Sandy. But I didn't.

We went up to the lake. For old time's sake.

I was right about it being cold. At first.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for all the comments, including those I can't reply to, I appreciate every one. :)**

* * *

_**June 1966...**_

I could hear a real annoying noise, that was what made me open my eyes. Under the murmur of voices and doors clipping shut every couple of seconds, there was a persistent beep that was real irritating.

"Hey, Evie?" Sarah hovered over me. The ceiling behind her looked strange, almost like the dentist's office, with one of those big lights on a stalk hanging down. I rolled my head – that hurt – trying to work out where the hell I was.

"...hospital, Evie, you're in the Emergency Room. You passed out. At Darry's house, remember?"

I squinted at her.

"Hold on, I'll fetch the nurse." Sarah disappeared. The door at the corner of my eye opened and shut. And opened again.

"Babe? You okay?" Steve was pale with worry. He picked up my hand gingerly. It felt weird, like he wasn't really touching my skin. He tried to smile but his eyes were so full of concern, it didn't really work.

Sarah reappeared with a grey haired nurse in tow.

"What are you doing?" Sarah snapped. "I told you to wait outside."

"I wanted to see her, to see she's okay," Steve flared.

"Well, you can go back outside now," the nurse said, with a pointed look at both of them.

When they'd gone, the nurse who'd been holding my wrist, scribbled on a clipboard and asked how I was feeling.

"Okay, I guess. My head hurts." I tried to sit up. She let me up a little on the pillows, just until I winced. I realized I was wearing a hospital gown. _Shit._ I looked around in dismay. "Where's my gear?"

"Right here." She pointed to the chair at one side of the bed. I tried to reach for the leather jacket balanced on top. She handed it to me and I wrapped it round my shoulders, wincing again. I hadn't noticed I was feeling exposed until I had it back.

Sarah came back in with a doctor. He was youngish and looked tired behind his glasses. He glanced at what the nurse had written and then started shining a baby flashlight in my eyes and getting me to follow his fingers around the room and all kinds of shit like that.

"Well? How is she?" Sarah demanded.

"A mild concussion, I would say. Did you get sick after you hit your head?" He turned from her to me. I nodded, the memory of how and where I chucked hitting me full on. "I'm waiting on the x-ray, but I don't think anything's broken. There are the cuts..."

"Hey. Ain't this my business? What happened to confidentiality?" I blurted to stop him going on. Sarah looked offended. The doctor checked the notes again.

"I thought you were...seventeen..." he murmured.

"I still got privacy, don't I? She ain't my mother."

"Evie! That's not fair, you know Ma can't come see you. Do you know how worried I was?"

I glared at all of them. "Can I get out of here now?"

The doctor shook his head. "We want to check a few more things and I'm waiting on the x ray of your ribs."

I felt my lip start to wobble. "I want to get dressed."

"I'll bring you some clean clothes from home. Let the doctor look after you." Sarah was firm.

My ears were ringing with how much my head thumped and I closed my eyes briefly. The nurse was watching me carefully. She spoke to the doctor in a whisper and then they turned to Sarah and did the same.

"Stop talking about me," I hissed, my fingers tightening on the leather of Ponyboy's jacket, pulling it tighter around me. When Sarah turned back to me, I was surprised to see tears shining in her eyes. She nodded at the doctor and he ducked out through the door.

The nurse smiled kindly, telling me she would bring me some pain meds, then she left too.

"Evie, you wanna tell me anything?" Sarah sat down on the chair, leaning over to hold my hand. I held my tongue. She swallowed. "I got here as soon as Darry called, but the nurses had already undressed you, while you were out cold. Honey, the nurse said you were..." Her voice failed her until she took a deep breath. "She said, whoever did this," she gestured at my face, "_hurt_ you. That he _forced_ you. Evie, is that what happened?"

**xxXxx**

**Three months previously**

_**Spring 1966...**_

Okay, so maybe life wasn't completely and utterly 'Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows.' Just as well - that was one song guaranteed to make Steve stab the radio 'off' button in the Chevy, right through the dashboard. The fight that Steve and I had about Trey was one example of things being less than perfect, but it was still good for me, in a way.

When we got back together, I think both of us had had time to think about things. About how we felt about each other and what we were prepared to do to make 'us' work. I know, 'compromise' and Steve Randle, not an obvious combination.

But, I felt like we'd have been simmering over that kind of fight for ages, before. Or maybe, I'd have bitten my tongue, because I didn't want to upset Steve. Now, we could argue and then move on. It didn't stress me so much because I knew we could disagree and it wouldn't automatically mean the end of our relationship. I thought that was progress.

It hadn't even come to a head with the Shepard boys. We'd run into Frank and Curly one night, both out with dates at the movies, and apart from a few dirty looks, there was no problem. Steve had no mystery bruises to make me think he'd been fighting. Two-Bit didn't report any issues either. We even heard that the Shepard boys were losing members, the gang was disintegrating without Tim to hold it together. I figured Frank Campbell had other worries, there was nothing for us to be concerned about. Life was groovy.

And I wasn't alone in feeling like the world was smiling on me. On us.

Because, with the appearance of Joanne on the scene, 'we' were all 'we'. Paired up. Happy.

Two-Bit made me smile at the beginning of his relationship with Kathy. Not with one of his God awful jokes, I mean that I was amused inside whenever he acted cool about her.

Thing is, anyone who didn't know him well would probably be taken in by the nonchalant attitude. But the fact that he hadn't been within an arm's length of any other girl – blonde or not – since he started seeing Kathy regularly, that told me all I needed to know.

One time we were all at Soda's house, and the guys were trying to organize a night over at the Slash J. Or maybe the drags. I forget where they were going, but the important thing was that Two-Bit hesitated.

"I dunno, I'll haveta check with-" he stopped himself, looking kind of shocked.

I caught Ponyboy's eye and we smiled at each other. The other two were still yakking and hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary.

"Two-Bit?" I said sweetly. "Did you just start to say you can't go out Friday without checking with Kathy?"

He started to bluster, make excuses, but Soda had heard me.

"No way? Two-Bit? Are you, like, _going steady_?" Soda made his voice all cheerleadery sappy and clutched his hands over his heart.

Two-Bit froze with his mouth open, like a startled goldfish. Slowly, he assumed a carefully casual look.

"So what if I am?" He shrugged.

But I think that was the first time he knew it for himself.

On the other hand, not one of us was under any illusion about how Soda felt about Joanne. Even Steve was moved to comment that Soda obviously 'had it bad'. I worried at first. It hadn't exactly ended well, when Soda fell so hard, so quick, for Sandy. But then I noticed something.

I wondered if Steve would have been able to specify exactly what it was about Soda that was different. I wondered if he'd realized that when Joanne was around, Soda was...still.

See, Soda _moved_ all the time. He tapped his foot while he was eating. He drummed his fingers while we chatted. He shredded paper napkins, twisted up stems of grass, stretched and shifted and was generally on the move somehow, all the time.

Except when Joanne was there. It was like she took all his concentration. Even Sandy had never had that effect on him.

So, yeah, I agreed with Steve: I thought Soda had it bad. And that was good.

And I liked both the girls, although they were very different.

Joanne had moved to Tulsa to work in her uncle's building supply warehouse. Turned out to be the one where Darry picked up night shifts, which was a cute coincidence. She answered the phones and did the typing and shit like that. She also had access to the rosters, which looked to be useful for Darry.

Coming from somewhere up past Claremore, the whole neighbourhood/gang turf deal was new to her and she'd stared, open mouthed, at some of the things Kathy mentioned. Not that Joanne was a country mouse. Oh no. She was quiet but she had a cool sense of humor and she really dug Soda. And she was tough enough to hold her own against the random chicks who still tried to hit on him; I think she'd been a greaser girl without knowing it, up there in the country.

Kathy was anything but quiet. I guess, if she grew up holding her own around the Kings, she had to know her own mind. She dressed sharp and she acted sharper, but that made her a good balance for Two-Bit's larger than life moments.

Like the time he accepted her challenge to shoplift the most outlandish items and we ended up with a bunch of helium balloons and a teddy bear that was nearly as big as me in the back of the Chevy. I still don't know how he did it.

Kathy was easy to talk to but we weren't best friends or anything. We didn't even hang out without the guys, we didn't do 'girls' nights' like I did with Sylvia. But inevitably there were evenings when the guys got into one conversation and left us girls to talk on our own and we got on fine. Although I never got up the courage to ask her one thing that nagged at me, whenever I thought about it.

What I wanted to ask her about was the conversation we had the day I found my shoes for Sarah's wedding. When she went out of her way to tell me why she'd been in Danny's bar, or – more importantly – why Adam Murphy had been there, with her brother Marshall in tow.

At the time I'd thought it a little strange that she was so keen to make it clear he was simply picking up her and Bridget. Just because they were a way out of River Kings territory.

Now, when I looked back, I remembered she'd clearly told me Murphy wasn't dealing down there that night, I just hadn't had a clue what she was getting at. In fact I even remembered Murphy himself establishing with Buzz that neither of them were 'working' right then.

But I was afraid to look completely dumb. Given that he told me he had a long rivalry with Murphy, I was afraid that if I asked her whether she knew Buzz was dealing, whether all of them knew all the time, she would simply say, "You mean you_ didn't_ know?"

Besides, like I said, we didn't really see each other without Steve and Two-Bit around, so I wasn't exactly going to bring up my old boyfriend in conversation anyway.

I might not have spent any time with Joanne either, if she hadn't gone out of her way to ask me something one day. See, although I liked her right away, I didn't think she liked me back and naturally, that made me a little wary. But, like I said, she wasn't no country mouse and one day, while the guys were doing whatever they were doing – and if you guess it was car related, you stand a fair chance of being right – she fronted me about my attitude.

"You got a problem with me?" She came right out with it like that. I told her no, I didn't. She shrugged. "I know Soda used to date your best friend. I get that makes it weird."

Oh. Maybe that's why she was a little stand offish with me.

"How much you know about her? About Sandy?"

Joanne shrugged again. "She moved away. That don't stop y'all being friends, though."

"Nah. But the lying and the cheating and the wrecking me an' Steve'd do that." It came out harder than I intended, but I realized that was probably the first time I'd admitted it all aloud, maybe even to myself. Despite the letters back and forth, I didn't consider Sandy a friend anymore; how could I, when she showed no remorse, or even acknowledgment of the disaster she'd left behind her?

I could see by the surprise on Joanne's face that she didn't know the full story. I didn't blame Soda for not telling her. I think they'd been dating for a month or so by that time. I studied her a moment; Jo was shorter than Sandy, not as stacked - although curvier than me - and she had real pretty, long brunette hair. Sandy she was not.

She looked across at the guys – we were on the Curtis's front porch, while they were poking about in Darry's truck engine.

"What d'you mean, 'wrecking you and Steve'? You guys are about the most together couple I ever saw."

I smiled. I couldn't help it. Watching him get annoyed as the part they'd been tinkering with wouldn't quite fit back in and he snagged his hand on something, cussing fiercely, I couldn't imagine being without him.

"Long story," I told her. "An' I ain't sure which parts are mine and which parts are Soda's to tell. But Sandy screwed us all over, one way and another. Truthfully, I ain't holding it against you, that you ain't her."

"Oh. Guess I was worryin' for nothing."

"I thought you were kind of off with me," I confessed.

"Glory. We've been tiptoeing 'round each other." Joanne laughed. "Guess I felt like the new girl in school, moving here an' everyone knowing each other already."

"School would've been way worse," I said. "They'd have been laying in wait for you in the bathroom, if you snagged Soda on your first day."

She looked confused. I reflected on the fact that she had no history here, no knowledge of past gossip and scandal and people's reputations.

"I thought he was real kind," she said, a bit off topic I thought, but then she went on, "I mean, I ain't blind, I know he's good looking, but that day he rescued me? My car up and died about a half block from the DX and I walked in and he just...made everything okay. I was nervous about work an' all, but he just said, 'Don't worry,' and the whole day got better." She looked at Soda and I strongly suspected that the look on her face was the one that had been on mine, just now, when I was looking at Steve.

And a tiny part of my brain checked off the fact that Sandy had never even bothered to work out whether Soda was kind or not. Never even cared.

The hood on the Ford slammed down and they turned around, towards us.

"Hey, look!" I exclaimed brightly, pointing at Joanne and myself. "Girls!"

Steve pulled a face at me, but Soda actually looked a little guilty as they hopped up the steps. We had bottles of Pepsi lined up and Soda sat with Joanne on the couch, while Steve dropped down to lean back on the rail with me.

Soda smiled. "Sorry. It ain't been starting good an' I didn't want it to get worse, 'cause Darry's working over the other side of town next week."

"Maybe we could've helped." It was an old, silly, point that I made from time to time, that they could actually teach me something when they were working on cars.

"Nah, 'cause we weren't picking out new seat covers," Steve said, leaning in to kiss me.

"I know stuff," was my indignant retort, as I dodged him, pretending to be hacked. "I could help."

"Oh, yeah, you and your extensive twelve volt battery draining knowledge, huh?" He chuckled, rolling his eyes at Soda. He'd soon worked out that I had only a tiny idea of what went on under a hood, despite my trying to bluff him, early in our relationship.

"Do you have homework you should be doin', baby?" I said sweetly. If I ran out of things to razz him about, I generally fell back on the fact that he was still in school, which I likened to being in kindergarten.

"Yeah, 'cause that's the killer blow, reminding me that I actually have a brain," he said lazily.

Soda kicked him at the same time as I elbowed him.

"_Sad but typical. This is the common response of the American drop out, resorting to violence_..." Steve announced in a fair imitation of Mr. Creegar, the Social Studies teacher.

"Ooh, can I join in?" Joanne piped up, drawing back her foot to kick him. "I'm a drop out too." Steve edged sideways, out of range.

"Let's make a club," I suggested.

"'_Drop Outs United_'," Soda agreed. "An' Steve can't come in our club house."

"Yeah, we won't tell him the password, or nothin'," I said gleefully, enjoying Steve's annoyed expression.

Ponyboy came out the house, pulling on a jacket.

"He can't join either," I declared.

"Hell, no. He's doubly disqualified. He's gonna graduate _early_..." Soda made it sound like the most disgusting thing he could describe.

"What?" Ponyboy looked at us. "What can't I join?"

"_Idiots Inc.'_"Steve said before any of us could answer. "It's a support organization for those who didn't finish school."

"Oh, I finished with school!" Joanne and I said at the exact same time. We laughed and I leaned forwards to high five her.

"Hey, I'll have you know I am the _backbone of the American economy_," Soda stated extravagantly.

I nodded. "Yup. The _beating heart of the working class_, that's us."

We had recently seen a patronizing piece on the TV news about how white collar work was underpinned by the unsung heroes doing all the other kinds of jobs.

"_Unnoticed and undervalued_..." Joanne chipped in.

"_Uneducated_..." Soda pulled a sad face, his hands going to his heart. I copied him and joined in:

"...but _proud_!"

Ponyboy had given up trying to understand and was on his way down to the sidewalk. "Yeah, whatever. I'mma head over to Curly's." He waved his hand at us.

"Shit," Soda muttered, "why'd he say that? If he'd kept quiet I coulda told Darry I didn't know where he was."

"Don't abandon me kid, they might rise up against the system and force a workers' revolution," Steve called after Ponyboy, with a smirk. "I can hear 'em now, 'liberty, equality ' - "

"Gee, mister. Them's fancy words right there," I drawled. "Why, I bet you read 'em in a real, gosh darned, printed book." He poked his tongue out at me, which was a real eloquent response. I grinned.

"I did all that 'liberty, equality' shit. French revolution, 17...99?" Joanne asked.

"1789." Steve corrected her.

"I thought you told me you failed History," I said, indignantly, "because you could see me, out the window?"

"_Nearly_. I _nearly_ failed it. Luckily you bought a longer skirt and I wasn't so distracted when the exam came around."


	4. Chapter 4

**This is another long one, but I wanted the second scene kept all together. Fingers crossed. Thank you, all guest reviewers. Josefin, I heart your comment :)**

* * *

_**June 1966...in the hospital...**_

My skin crawled at the thought of the nurses undressing me, of them seeing the marks and bruises that must have been left on me. The thought of them taking one look at me and thinking that they knew what had happened. Like I was branded or something. I started retching. Sarah looked horrified, scanned around for a bowl. But there was nothing in my stomach anyway.

I got back into some kind of control, taking as deep a breath as I could bear with my ribs complaining the whole time.

She asked again. If what the nurse said had happened to me was true.

I told her 'no' and I turned away.

Sarah walked around the bed, deliberately putting herself in my eye line.

"Just tell me one thing then." Her tone was flat but determined. "Tell me if this was Steve."

"What?" I was completely taken aback, utterly appalled that such a thing would ever occur to her. "No, of course it wasn't Steve, how could you even think that? Christ, are you crazy?"

"Okay, okay." She backed off. "I just wanted to check."

"Don't tell him what the nurse said. _It ain't true._ Sarah? Don't you tell him –"

The nurse came back in, handing me a tiny paper cup with two pills in it. She watched me tip them back and then poured me a glass of water and held it out.

"That should help with the pain pretty soon." She smiled tightly, before leaving again. I couldn't meet her eyes.

I heard Steve's voice raised outside and I looked to Sarah in a panic. I guessed he'd asked the nurse to tell him something and she'd refused. It was only a matter of time before he ran right out of patience.

"Tell him I'm okay," I begged Sarah. As she approached the door, it opened anyway and the doctor and nurse came in with a policeman. I shrank back against the pillows.

"You want to report an assault?" The cop, in the act of pulling out his notebook, looked between me and Sarah as I said 'no' at the same time as she said 'yes'. In the silence that followed, I noticed that it had also gone quiet outside the room.

A second cop came in. The two of them exchanged raised eyebrow communication of some kind. The new one started wandering around the room, looking at stuff.

"Which is it?" the older one, who'd asked the first question, regarded us all.

"Evie, you gotta tell them. Look at her," Sarah appealed to him. "You can see someone hurt her."

He sniffed. "If she don't press charges, it don't mean anything."

"Boyfriend?" The other one looked bored. "That him outside? Mr Indy 500?"

"Oh, yeah, the drag racer. I knew I recognized that kid's face." The first one nodded.

I could feel Sarah's disapproval radiating off her, that we were now associated with someone 'known to the police'. _Dear God, if the cops blamed Steve..._

"It wasn't him!" I blurted.

"Who was it then?"

I faced the grey haired cop. "Someone else."

**xxXxx**

**Two months earlier...**

_**April 1966...**_

When I was at school, there was a kid in my class whose parents were divorced. Well, there was more than one, including Sandy, but the girl I remembered was different to the others because she still saw her dad. He hadn't vanished into thin air like they usually did, nor slouched into prison, nor shrunk into nothing more than a signature on a card at birthdays.

The reason I paid attention, the reason I was jealous, was this; she got two Christmases. When I was a kid, I thought that was about the limit of extravagance and luxury. She got two days of gifts and fun. One here and one up in Owasso, where her dad lived. I don't know what happened about her birthdays. The same, I guess.

I was about to see something similar happen for Steve's eighteenth birthday. His mom really wanted to make up for lost time. She wanted to throw him a party. And, for no reason other than to spite her, so did Eddie.

There were several things that I could foresee going wrong, but the first thing I had to worry about was what I was going to wear, down there in Muskogee.

Despite the fact that guys never seem to know about, or notice, clothes, Steve actually suggested I wear my red dress. Said he wanted me to, even. I was all for buying a new outfit, but I'd hardly worn that dress and he said I should. It was a fabulous dress. It was a far out party dress.

And I knew that Carol would hate it.

I'd felt a lot of sympathy for Carol, when our initial interpretation of her story was the 'horrible husband, victim wife' one. When we found the letters and cards and realized that Eddie had stopped Steve contacting her over the years, I was horrified for her. I knew for a fact that she couldn't help the depression that hospitalized her when Steve was a baby and it seemed downright cruel that she'd been penalized for it.

But I surprised myself, because as we processed more of the story, I actually found myself disliking her. The awkward thing was, I was pretty sure it was mutual.

I couldn't shake the suspicion that I'd gotten, that day when Eddie had first spilled about Carol and him splitting up, that she could have, _should have_, fought harder for Steve. The more I thought about it, the more Eddie's theory made sense. She left Steve behind in order to have a clear run at other kids, in the future. I wasn't sure I could forgive her for that.

After he found her again, Steve arranged as many visits as he could in the first few weeks and he took me with him. We were just back as a couple, spending every minute we could together, so we were never going to waste the hours driving back and forth to Muskogee. But I would happily have waited for him while he visited, found some stores or something. He didn't believe me when I said that and Carol was on her absolute best behavior; there was no way she would have told Steve I wasn't welcome.

She never said it to me outright either, of course. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't her choice of companion for Steve. I did consider that could have been the case anyway – even if he'd grown up with her. Maybe moms just never liked their sons' girlfriends. I'd never met a guy's mom before, how was I supposed to know?

Walt and the twins were always just the same with me as they had been the first time we'd met. But I found myself thinking about Carol, when I was dressing to travel down there, trying to anticipate her expression when she saw a particular skirt, or top, or earrings, on me. I didn't like that feeling at all.

And I knew exactly what she would think of the red dress. The very short red dress.

But Steve was so happy, I couldn't bring him down. He could probably have asked me to wear a garbage bag and I would have done it.

Besides, maybe the spotlight wouldn't be on me. Maybe I would be the least of Carol's worries. Because she'd insisted on inviting all of us - she wanted to meet Steve's friends.

I looked over my shoulder, past Soda and Joanne in the back seat, to check that the Plymouth was still following us. It was mean of me to think it, but I reckoned Kathy's skirt was shorter than mine and if I was lucky, maybe Two-Bit would be..._Two-Bit_ and take the heat off me.

"Hey, this is a real _nice_ neighborhood," Soda said slyly, as we drew up outside the house. I'd used the word 'Soc' in conversation, in my description of the place, when he asked about Steve's mom. Steve still tried real hard to deny it, but even he had to see that the Chevy and – dear God – the heap that served as Two-Bit's wheels were the oldest cars on the street.

I wondered if any of the neighbors would be twitching to call the cops, as we all piled out.

A small whirlwind came around the side of the house, yelling Steve's name.

"You're late! You were supposed to be here a half hour ago an' me an' Jamie can't even have any soda until you're here so can we start the party now? Huh?"

Steve scooped up Scott, holding him upside down. "Ain't you forgetting to wish me 'Happy Birthday', squirt?" he demanded.

"I ain't, I ain't, I ain't," Scott yelled in delight, because he wasn't usually allowed to say 'ain't' without one of his parents correcting him. "Happy Birthday! We got you a present, it's –"

"Don't tell! Mommy said not to tell!" Jamie had appeared now and was smiling at us.

Steve plonked Scott the right way up and ruffled Jamie's hair. "Hey, kiddo."

"Hey, Steve." Jamie beamed and hugged him around the middle. "Happy Birthday."

I'd been sneaking a look at Soda as all this went on and he was as knocked out as I knew he would be; how the twins looked, the way Steve was with them, it was freaky in a good way.

Both little boys were now staring at the others as they came over. Scott looked like he was going to burst from curiosity. I knew why.

"That one," I whispered, pointing at Soda. Scott squinted his eyes up, reassessing Soda as a specimen, while he in turn shot me a questioning look.

"Did he bring any proof?" Scott demanded.

I fought back a smile. "I think he's got his driver's license, that any good?"

Scott nodded.

"I gotta have I.D. to get in?" Soda looked confused.

"Nah, just to prove Steve ain't lying about your name. They think he's been kidding 'em on."

He grinned at me.

The front door opened and Carol came out onto the porch. I tried to see us as she did. I wasn't even sure if there were any teenagers living around here, I'd never seen any on our visits. Maybe they weren't the kind of kids who hung out in packs.

Soda and Joanne were holding hands. She had on a real cute sweater and capris and he was looking pretty good himself in a new white shirt and the cleanest jeans I'd ever seen him wear. But her sweater was tight and his hair was slicked back and I knew that was what Carol would see. Next to them, Two-Bit had his arm slung over Kathy's shoulders. She leaned into him, straightening the collar on his leather jacket, as he said something to her. I might have been right, her skirt did look shorter than mine. Although she was a good few inches taller than me, so maybe it was just that she had more legs to show.

We were all spruced up, in our party best. But there was no disguising who we were.

Steve introduced everyone. Scott snickered some until Carol shot him a warning look. She told us to go right through the house, because Walt was cooking hamburgers on the grill out back. The twins pulled Steve with them.

As the rest of us followed them, Carol complimented me on my dress, told me it was a pretty color.

"Steve likes it," I responded, defensively.

She nodded in a patronizing way. "I'm sure he does. You let me know if you feel cold, I'll lend you a sweater."

I stared at her back as she walked away to see to something in the kitchen. See, it sounded perfectly nice. But what did she mean by that? Kathy tweaked my arm, rolling her eyes.

"_What a bitch_," she mouthed. Ah, maybe I wasn't being paranoid.

Walt greeted us warmly, and the twins excitedly pointed out the food table and all the snacks. The wide range of matching Tupperware made me smile, I wanted Carol to appear in a ruffled apron and white gloves to demonstrate all of the advantages of each of the containers.

"So-da?" Scott bounced over, stretching the syllables into 'So-da' every time he spoke. "Soda, would you like some soda? We have all kinds of soda. What kind of soda do you like, Soda?"

Before Walt could issue the reprimand that was obviously on his lips, Steve picked up Scott under one arm and marched around the corner of the patio, out of sight. They returned a minute later, Scott looking marginally chastened.

Soda, who'd been grinning widely, tried to maintain a serious face in light of the fact that Scott had obviously been told not to bug him about his name. Scott hovered by the table, poking at one or two of the dishes. I spotted a devilish look come back into his expression, as he lifted up a plate covered in crackers with some kind of meat paste on them.

He marched over to us, right past Soda, and smiled sweetly up at his new victim. "Do you want one of these, Two-Bit?" He thrust the plate forward. "Do you want one, or two..._bits_?"

"What'd I just say?" Steve growled, making Scott burst into giggles. He all but dropped the plate, so that Two-Bit had to grab it quick, and he shot away across the lawn, with Steve in hot pursuit.

We all cracked up.

"I apologize for my son. Hopefully, he's got that out of his system now." Walt sighed. He left the grill and began pouring drinks for everyone. There really was 'all kinds of soda'.

I smiled to myself as Two-Bit was offered a choice of pop and, after automatically grinning in response, then worked out that Walt wasn't joking.

Two-Bit put the plate of crackers back on the table carefully and accepted a lemonade. His hand went reflexively to his pocket, but Kathy elbowed him. I don't think he would really have got out his hip flask. I watched him start discussing barbecue tips with Walt.

A little hand slide into mine and I looked down at Jamie.

"Your dress is red."

I agreed with his observation.

He smiled. "I like red."

"You do?" He'd mentioned it before, but it seemed like he was trying to tell me a secret or something. "You an' Steve both, then."

He grinned a grin that wrinkled up his whole face. "Good." He giggled.

Carol appeared, leading some people on to the patio. I'd heard the door bell ring, without realizing what it would mean.

"Oh." She looked a little put out that Steve wasn't right there and sent Jamie to fetch him from where he was still chasing Scott around the yard. She performed introductions only once he arrived. I guess we weren't important enough on our own.

"This is Steve. And some of his friends. Steve, these are some friends of ours, Bill and Mary Calloway and their children, Deedee and William. I hope you don't mind that we invited a few people to join us."

As if he would say so. Personally, I thought it was beyond weird, to invite complete strangers to your son's birthday party, but I held my tongue. I did a lot of that in Carol's house.

Deedee and William were about our age, maybe that's why their family was invited. Plaid skirt, saddle shoes, preppy sweater and button down. Check and check. The respectable young people had arrived.

William looked at his – shiny - shoes. Deedee looked at Soda. And looked some more. She tossed her ponytail like a show horse.

I knew Steve was real uncomfortable, being the center of attention. I tucked under his arm and he slung an arm over my shoulders and mumbled hellos in the right places, but I knew he wanted to be anywhere but there.

Walt suggested putting some music on, I guess he felt the small talk was getting awkward. He brought out a transistor and he and Two-Bit began fiddling with the angle of the aerial and moving the dial up and down to find something acceptable to the majority.

Jamie reappeared, only to sigh tragically. "I s'pose you can't climb the jungle gym. In a dress."

"No. Not today."

"You do that often, Evie? Play on the jungle gym?" Kathy smiled.

I shrugged. Truthfully, I was happy to spend time with the twins, out from under Carol's gaze, while she talked to Steve, so yeah, I played with them.

"Evie can stand up on the top bar. She ain't afraid of nothin'!" Jamie announced.

"Well now, that sounds like a direct quote." Two-Bit winked at me.

Soda was looking speculatively at the jungle gym. "Bet I –" he started.

"How about some football, huh?" I suggested to Jamie, before Soda got some real dangerous dares going. "You want the guys to play football with you?"

Steve was more than happy to duck away across the lawn in search of the ball. I felt a small pang of guilt about Soda's white shirt. He certainly didn't pay it any mind as he loped after Steve. In contrast, William complained that he had the wrong shoes, the wrong pants, the wrong everything, as his dad urged him to join in. He had no argument that could stand up to Two-Bit dragging him along in a friendly gesture that only slightly resembled a head lock.

Deedee took notice that Two-Bit had handed his jacket to Kathy. She immediately ignored her and focused on Joanne.

"Is that your boyfriend?" She pointed at Soda as the guys split into two teams.

Joanne nodded.

"He's awful cute."

I caught Kathy's eye, as Joanne simply nodded again. The two moms had disappeared inside the house and Walt and the other guy were poking at the grill and chatting.

"I guess a guy like that gets lots of girls interested in him." Deedee twirled the end of her ponytail.

"You guess right." Joanne sounded perfectly pleasant.

"I guess a girl has to work hard to keep a guy like that." She was too busy watching Soda to notice Joanne's eyes narrow ever so slightly. "To stop him going off with other girls."

"Oh no." Joanne's voice was still calm, but she dropped the volume so Deedee had to lean in a little to hear her. "It ain't like that at all. All I gotta do is scalp any skank who tries to get near him. _Savvy_?"

Deedee took a step back, her hand tightening on her pony tail. I bit my lip, but Kathy smirked openly.

"You have real pretty hair, Deedee," Kathy drawled. "You been growin' that a long while?"

As Deedee scurried into the house and we all burst out laughing, Steve looked across at us. He gestured a question but I just shrugged, acting innocent.

Soda lifted Scott high in the air to catch the ball and then they ran whooping past us, having touched down in whatever flower bed was the end zone. Soda stopped just long enough to plant a kiss on Joanne.

"Nice play, baby," she called after him, as he ran back to the others. Then she looked at me and Kathy, confused. "What'd he do?"

I noticed Bill watching us girls and he turned back to Walt and made some comment under his breath. Walt frowned and shook his head, but Bill chuckled to himself. I imagined pushing him, face first, into the grill.

The guys didn't need telling twice when Walt announced that the burgers were ready. Soda ducked inside to wash his hands, since he'd been rolling on the ground with Scott and Jamie, completely trashing his shirt. I noticed that even William seemed to have loosened up a little and was chatting easily with Two-Bit as they came back. I volunteered to fetch another plate, for the extra patties that Walt was worried would burn while we ate.

Inside, I crossed paths with Soda on his way back out. He didn't exactly beam at me, but I figured he wasn't looking forward to another round of small talk. I paused in the kitchen as I picked up a spare plate. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just heard Steve's name and I pulled up short as Mary continued.

"He's a fine looking boy, Carol, I'm so pleased for you."

"I just wish..."

"I know, I know. But you have him back now."

"But is it too late? Look at the kind of people he associates with..."

"I thought his girlfriend was quite sweet."

"Oh, don't! _That dress_. And the other girl's skirt! Don't tell me you would want to see Deedee with so much skin showing..."

I nearly bit right through my tongue.

"Hello, Evie." Deedee's voice was loud as she came in, the two women right behind her. Deliberately loud. Screw her, if she thought I'd be embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping – they were the ones bitching about us.

I caught Carol's eye just long enough that we communicated. She looked a little shamefaced, but she covered it, as they followed me back to the patio.

Outside, Joanne was sitting on Soda's lap, not something she often did in public and something I wished she wasn't doing right at that moment. Then I got angry with myself. What the hell did it matter what these frigging Socs thought of us?

Steve was caught in conversation with Walt and Bill, although Bill was obviously distracted by Kathy, every time she moved. I wondered if Mary would be on his case, when they got home. It would be too bad manners to call him publicly on looking at Kathy's legs, I was sure. But I was equally sure she noticed. She was very sharp about asking if he wanted salad in his burger.

I walked over and put my arm around Steve, sliding my hand into his back pocket before I handed the plate to Walt and joined in the conversation. Steve didn't seem surprised. He'd probably never noticed that I held back on displays of affection at this house, since the first visit, when I was sure Carol had seen us kissing.

There was a peal of laughter from Scott and we all turned to see Jamie's t shirt covered in ketchup. He was holding half a bun, while the rest of his burger slid down his front and dropped to the patio. His lip started wobbling.

"It's okay, sweetie, there's tons more burgers." I grabbed a handful of napkins and swiped at his t shirt.

"It escaped," he sniffed.

"Yeah, they do that sometimes. Hot dogs are worse, though, I once had a hot dog shot clean across the room and ran away down the path..." Two-Bit piped up. I looked at him gratefully, as he appeared around the corner of the house, behind Jamie, and made him smile with the tale of the hot dog escaping over the border to Mexico and beginning a new life as a bull fighter.

I noticed Walt and Mary smiling too. It was hard not to be amused by Two-Bit, when you first met him, his stories were real entertaining.

There was another ring on the door bell and my heart sank. More Socs? But Carol came back out by herself and she exchanged some kind of significant look with Walt.

"Is it here? Is it here?" Scott started hopping up and down, tugging on Carol's hand. Jamie looked about as excited. She nodded and turned her smile on Steve.

"We got you a little something, for your birthday." And just as I was thinking 'Jeez, give it to him, then', she told him he'd have to go around in front of the house to receive it. Scott and Jamie immediately grabbed Steve's hands and we had to be quick to follow them, as they dragged him away.

At first I thought Carol had the gift in her car. Their Buick was parked up on the driveway, with a Mercury station-wagon behind it. I guessed that was the Calloway's car. Although, maybe William had brought his own ride because...

And then I realized. I think we all realized at the same time, stopping in a knot, almost bumping into one another, as the twins danced about us gleefully.

Carol was holding the key to the bright red, brand new, Mustang and she was holding it out to Steve.

Soda whistled low. Two-Bit rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Steve just stood there.

A couple of seconds stretched awkwardly around us all.

"Well, well, " Bill chuckled. "Who's a lucky boy, then?"

Deedee giggled as Steve continued to stare, without saying anything.

Carol tried to give him the key, but Steve took a step backwards, away from her.

She smiled anyway. "Steve? This is for you, sweetheart, I – "

"No." Steve seemed to have difficulty forming the word.

"It's red. You like red." I heard Jamie's voice but I didn't look for him. I looked desperately at Soda, he could see how this was wrong, how this was freaking Steve out. He nodded, his eyes worried.

"We thought it would be more reliable than your old one," Carol was still smiling, still not getting it.

Oh, fuck. Did these people not pay attention when Steve talked? Had they not listened when he talked about the hours he'd put into the Chevy? Not seen how proud he was of his work?

"We didn't move house," Steve said, out of all context, to his mom. "Me an' Dad. We still live on East Marshall. You know that." When she looked puzzled, he continued. "You lived there once. You gotta remember. You gotta remember that neighborhood." He was taking deep breaths and I knew he was trying real hard to stay calm.

I moved forward a step at the exact same time that Soda did. Steve shook his head slowly.

"Did it seem like the kind of neighborhood where people drive this kind of car? Do I seem like the kind of guy who drives this kind of car?"

Walt tried to say something, but Steve started again, addressing Carol:

"Look at me. _Look at me. _I'm a greaser. I ain't stupid. I know you don't dig my hair like this. You don't dig my jacket. Hell, you don't even like my girlfriend much. But this is who I am. I ain't no college frat boy an' I ain't no big time, goddamn,_ Mustang drivin', _Soc!"

A whole lot of things happened at once. Carol covered her face with her hands. Walt rushed over to her. Jamie burst into tears. Bill started to tell Steve he was an ungrateful little hoodlum.

And William lurched around the side wall, waving Two-Bit's hip flask and promptly spewed chunks all over his mother's shoes.

* * *

**Okay, chapters should be like your kids, no favorites, but...I kind of like this one. Reviews would make my day!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Yikes. I promise they're not all as long as this. Thanks to everyone for reviewing - if you're a guest or I can't PM back, 'Thank you!'**

* * *

_**April 1966...**_

Eddie thought it was hilarious. When he heard about the Mustang, he roared with laughter, until he started coughing and had to sit down. When he got his breath back, he told Steve he was a complete idiot and that he should have taken the car and sold it.

"I didn't want it!" Steve snapped.

Eddie smirked. "Well, I'm sure Evie coulda spent the dough for you." He shot me a wink.

"Not helping." I glared at him.

"And it would have saved me the cost of all this."

_All this _was the set up in their back yard. A barbecue, that Two-Bit was manning, which made me fear for the burgers and hotdogs; the corn cobs were already past saving, in my opinion. Plus a couple of kegs of beer and various other drinks. Eddie obviously had little regard for underage drinking laws.

Actually, I thought it was remarkable that he'd suggested it happening at their house in the first place. I mean, no one was supposed to go inside, but even so, it had to be beyond stressing out the neat freak in him, people all over his yard, dropping food and spilling drinks.

I knew he'd done it in response to Carol's party and I was pretty sure that it was the first party Steve had ever had, at his own house. He'd told me, and Soda had mentioned, that Soda's mom threw parties for the guys when they were little – Johnny in particular – but that wasn't the same. I knew that from experience; I never had a birthday party like other kids when I was little. I had cake and balloons, but it was only ever me, Ma and Sarah, maybe Sandy. It wasn't like what happened at other people's houses.

Even to spite Carol though, Eddie couldn't quite hit the mark as far as fatherly commitment went. Because he was on his way out the door. He wasn't staying for the party. And his gift, like always, was cash. Steve had sighed and pocketed it without even counting it. Jeez, Eddie might as well have thrown in one of the free pens or other shit that the company he worked for handed out, he usually had those around anyway. I tried, as usual, to make Steve feel better about his dad's apparent lack of interest.

"If he had to work..."

"Yeah, God forbid, he rearrange a contract for me."

I suggested we went inside. Partly to cheer him up and partly so I could flip Eddie off, in my mind at least.

He needed cheering up, because on top of the party fiasco, Steve had just had to register down at the Selective Service office. I dreamed about ways to break into the place and wipe his name off the list. He refused to talk about it, but he had to be feeling the weight of the draft hanging over him now.

After a quick stop in Steve's room – and there's nothing wrong with 'quick', if it's meaningful - I paused in the hallway, re-buttoning my top.

"What is this door for?" I asked. Yeah, yeah, I know the story of Blackbeard's bride and the door she wasn't supposed to open, but I was curious, that's all. Steve's house was almost the same as mine, in layout, only mine had the attic turned into more of a proper bedroom – for which I was eternally grateful, since I hadn't had to share with Sarah. Guess Steve was pretty grateful for that too.

It meant though, that there was a narrow door to his steep attic stairs and another door, tucked next to that, where in my house it was only the staircase.

"It's just the junk room." Steve turned the handle and showed me. Oh, bit disappointing really. It was a tiny room, with nothing but a couple of storage crates and an old dresser. Neat of course, even for a junk room, because of Eddie. One wall had cowboy wallpaper. I looked at that and smiled.

"Used to sleep in here, when I was real little," Steve explained. "'Cause my grandma had the other bedroom, I guess." He didn't really remember that time, when Eddie's mom had lived with them and looked after him, while Carol was hospitalized.

Whoever did the work on my house had used the little room to make the stairs wider and make our bathroom bigger, I realized. I didn't know if it was my dad who'd done that, or if he and Ma had moved in and found it that way. I wondered if my dad had been good at remodeling and shit like that. I kind of liked the idea that he'd made that attic room for me, maybe when he found out Ma was expecting again.

"Did you wanna be a cowboy?" I teased, pointing at the wallpaper.

"When I was three? Probably. Not past the age when I found out what an engine was. Kind of got put off even more when Soda did his knee in."

"What'd he do?"

"Tore a ligament in his knee, coming off a saddle bronc the hard way. The doctor told his folks he'd always have a limp, but I guess he was wrong. Made me think that horses ain't so reliable."

"And cars are so much safer..." I teased.

"In my hands they are," he said, without a trace of irony.

Even the Mustang would have been. I thought back to the drive up from Muskogee.

The afternoon had disintegrated spectacularly, between the Calloways shrieking about William being loaded – for which they exclusively blamed Two-Bit, like he'd held the kid down and forced him to drink – and the whole issue over the Mustang.

When Steve had spilled out how much he knew he wasn't what Carol wanted, my heart about broke for him.

'_I know you don't dig my hair like this. You don't dig my jacket. Hell, you don't even like my girlfriend much.'_

And the worst thing of all was, she didn't contradict him.

If I replayed it in my mind, rewriting what happened, she told him none of that was true. That she didn't care how he wore his hair, that she loved him unconditionally, that he was not a disappointment, that she knew he was a good guy; hardworking, loyal, trustworthy. That he was exactly the son she wanted.

I could care less what she thought of me at that point, but he deserved that.

What really happened was that she started weeping and told him she had hoped that she could start him on a new life from here on in. A better life. A _proper_ life.

"So the first eighteen years of my life have been wasted?" he asked, and I silently begged her not to hear that as angry, but as hurt. So hurt.

I was vaguely aware of the others around us, but only put the pieces together afterwards, while we were driving.

Kathy had steered Two-Bit away, towards the curb, because he was laughing so hard at William, now lying on the grass and groaning, as his mother fussed over him.

Meanwhile, Joanne had taken Jamie off to one side, trying to dry his tears and telling him not to worry, that grownups sometimes did confusing things, but everything was okay. Scott wasn't helping because he kept demanding loudly, "What is hoodlum? Why is Steve hoodlum? When can we go in the new car?"

At some point Deedee thought it would add nicely to the mix, if she announced to her folks that Joanne and Kathy had physically threatened her. Bill Calloway was very, very lucky at that moment, that Two-Bit didn't hear what he said about Kathy.

Soda did, and I did, and we immediately knew we had to get everyone out of there. And fast. I motioned to Two-Bit to come help.

"Look," I stepped forwards, between Steve and Carol. But it was Walt I spoke to. "Please, we need to chill here –"

"Carol wanted..._we_ wanted to make Steve's birthday special. This meant a lot to her..."

"But it meant a lot to Steve too, just to be here. It ain't about stuff, it ain't about cars and money an'..." I broke off, distracted by Soda trying to persuade Steve to leave, his voice low and urgent, Steve's more angry.

"...tryin' to buy me off..." Steve was pointing at the Mustang in frustration. I looked at Walt for help. He had to see that this was going all wrong and help me before it spiraled out of all control. But he was concentrating on Carol again. I tried the only other thing I could of.

"Steve?" I went right up to him, put my hand on his face to force his attention to me. "Take me home, baby, please?"

Bill Calloway made another snide comment, under his breath.

Steve's head snapped towards him. "What did you just call her?" he asked incredulously.

"Nothing she hasn't heard before, I'm sure," Bill sneered back. "I'm sorry, Carol, but really, inviting these JDs and their little molls, you were asking for trouble. Look at these girls, no better than they ought to be-"

It took Soda and Two-Bit both to hold Steve back.

I grabbed a fistful of Steve's shirt and pushed him. "Get in the car, baby, get in the car, _please_," I repeated urgently.

Steve, plainly furious, marched over to the Chevy, the rest of us trailing him, but Soda turned back as we got there, his face about as serious as I think I'd ever seen him. He looked steadily at Bill.

"Sir, my father taught me to never talk trash in front of ladies. But that's okay, because I think, if you knew what your daughter offered to do for me in the bathroom earlier, you'd probably think she don't count as a lady. You might wanna think about that, if you're labeling people as no better than they oughta be." He slammed the door closed on the Chevy and we took off, the Plymouth close behind.

I swear I could hear the adrenaline fizzing in all our veins as we hightailed it out of the neighborhood. Steve's face was thunderous.

"You gonna tell me what that little skank said?" Joanne piped up.

Soda told us what Deedee had suggested. Joanne's face was a picture.

"Hey, I thought you didn't talk trash in front of ladies?" I objected. "That's filthy."

"That was the clean version!" He grinned. "What she actually said was – "

"Shut up." Steve said quietly. Soda immediately looked contrite.

"I'm sorry about all that, man, I was only defending the girls. I can apologize to your mom..."

"I don't care. I don't care about any of 'em." He made it sound real convincing. "I just don't wanna talk about it." He fumbled in his shirt pocket for his weeds. I took the packet and lit one for him. It seemed to be calming him down until he suddenly thumped the steering wheel. "Shit. I never said goodbye to the twins." I felt bad for him.

Two-Bit flashed his lights as we came up to a diner along the highway and we pulled into the parking lot. He hopped out and came over as Steve got out too, unable to sit still. We all gathered around.

"Buddy, I'm sorry about that kid, he said he was used to liquor. Said he raided his dad's whiskey all the time." Two-Bit pulled a face.

Steve shook his head. William getting trashed was the least of his worries, I think.

"His dad was a pervert," Kathy added. "He practically had his head up my skirt, he was looking so hard." And she hadn't even heard what he called her. I exchanged a guilty look with Soda.

"_Fucking Socs_." Steve ground out the end of his weed.

I looked at him in surprise. He shrugged.

"Well, they are, aren't they?"

We all took a couple of seconds to reflect on the afternoon.

"Sweet ride, though, birthday boy," Two-Bit commented slyly. He nudged Steve's foot with his toe.

Soda grinned. "Bet that woulda got you home in half the time." He shoved Steve lightly.

"Shut up," Steve said, half a smile fighting to be seen on his face.

"Yeah," Two-Bit said. "And think how pretty he'd have looked, his hair flowin' in the wind..."

Steve tried to ruffle Two-Bit's hair, telling him he'd make _his_ hair flow in the wind if he didn't shut up. The three of them ended up scuffling around, poking and shoving each other.

I hopped up on the hood and Kathy lit a cigarette as we watched them.

"So what'd the little Socy bitch have in mind for Soda?" she asked lazily. Joanne told her.

Kathy roared with laughter. "Glory, them uptight chicks are always the worst. Marshall went with this girl, one time – hey, she might've been in your grade, Evie. Claire, I think her name was – anyway, she would only put out if he wore his leather jacket. _All the time_, if you know what I mean. She was all about the bad boy." She blew her smoke out, grinning. "He had to dump her in the end. Said it was too friggin' hot to be wearing it in August, when they was getting down to it."

I laughed, imagining Marshall the hood getting too hot for comfort. Joanne always looked as if she never knew whether to believe Kathy when she told these stories, but she smiled too. The guys jostled and razzed each other.

And I had a sudden picture of us, as if I was outside looking in. As if I were Carol, or some other person who didn't know us, driving past on the freeway.

Did we look like JDs and their chicks, because of our clothes? Did we look like trouble, because we were having fun?

Not one of us was a bad person. Not really. And, in fact, Two-Bit and Soda had just demonstrated again what good friends they were, easing Steve out of what could have been a real bad mood, helping him cope with a crappy afternoon. He was actually smiling as they quit trying to kick each other and he came over to me.

Two-Bit was laughing, trying to find his matches and failing. Steve taunted him.

"Randle, gimme a light, you miserable fucker," Two-Bit complained, because Soda never had a lighter on him, so it was pointless asking him.

Steve tossed his lighter high, making Two-Bit lurch to catch it.

I put my arms around Steve's neck and kissed him.

"Um, excuse me?" A nervous voice made all of us look around. A kid in an apron was shuffling in front of the diner door. "Um, my manager wants to know if y'all are coming in? Only the lot's for paying customers only," he squeaked out. Some manager, sending the busboy to front down a gang of undesirables.

We all looked at each other, barely holding in the laughter.

"Certainly, my good fellow," Two-Bit announced grandly. "Kindly have your best table made ready an' put the champagne on ice!"

The kid scooted back inside and we fell back into the cars, laughing fit to bust.

**xxXxx**

It was a couple of days later when she called. Steve put the phone down, frowning slightly.

"My mom. She wants to come up. See me. Says she's sorry." He looked unsure.

I'd figured that was it, from his end of the conversation. I guess she'd been lucky to call when Eddie wasn't here to pick up. Or maybe she'd been doing that 'call and then hang up' thing over the last few days, although even that was tricky because Steve and his dad kind of sounded the same on the phone. I once said, 'Hey, sexy,' to Eddie. He laughed and said, 'Hey yourself, little darlin'.' Could have been worse, I guess.

"_Here_? Like, to the house, here?" That would be even trickier to arrange. I couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like, Eddie and Carol face to face.

Steve shook his head. "She asked if I'd go over to that diner on the new expressway. We went there that time, when Soda was looking to buy parts for the Ford -"

"I remember the diner," I interrupted gently. "But what do you wanna do? You wanna meet her?"

He glanced up, almost guilty looking.

"It's okay, if you do," I told him. As pissed as he'd been, I recognized he wasn't going to able to just walk away, not so soon after finding his mom.

"I should've said something before. She was pretty snaky about you a coupla times."

I could see the conflict going on in his head. Truthfully, I'd thought he was oblivious to Carol's less than enthusiastic opinion of me, until he said what he did at the party. I loved that he felt loyal to me, but there was no way I was going to let that be the reason he fell out with his mom; I didn't want the fall out bouncing back on me.

"About me?" I played it for laughs, hoping to convince him it wasn't a problem. "What's there to dislike about me?" I moved over to him and slid up against him, running my hand up his arm and neck, towards his head. "Hell, next you'll be sayin' she don't like this tuff, sexy hair you got going on..." I ran my fingers up and flicked a swirl out of place.

"Hey!" he said reflexively, grabbing my hand, before I messed it up even more. I smiled about that.

"Baby, I dig that you noticed, but you should see her for yourself, if you want to. Don't sweat what she thinks about me." Jeez, I was proud of myself, it about killed me to say that.

"You figure I owe her an apology too?" He sounded real reluctant to admit that and who could blame him?

"What for? Turning down the Mustang?"

"I was thinking more like for ruining the party."

I shrugged. "I think you had help. I guess she could say you brought Two-Bit, but that stupid Soc kid didn't have to drink all his booze. _She_ invited him. _And _the skank who wanted to get Soda's pants off. _And_ the sleaze who thought he could perv on Kathy... So, honest? I don't think it was your fault."

"Yeah?" He seemed pleased.

"Yeah. She needs a reality check. She should see you for who you are and still be happy. You are fan-fuckin'–tastic, y'know." Okay, not so proud of myself that time, but I'd bitten my tongue so many times over things that Carol said when we were over there and maybe I was done playing nice, after all. He smirked.

"I could get you some pompoms, you keep on being my cheer-leading squad."

"Gimme an 'S', gimme 'T' – " I started but he kissed me and that shut me up for a while.

I went with him. I tried to argue that he ought to see her alone but the only compromise he would come to was, that I should drive with him and I could wait in the car if it was obviously going to be an issue. I couldn't tell him no. It wasn't about being tough, it wasn't about standing up for himself; Steve was caught between being angry and being hurt and still wanting to have some kind of connection with his mom, I could see all that clearly enough. Why he thought I could help with all that, I was less sure, but I was damned if I was going to let him go through it alone.

When we got there, Walt and Carol were already sitting at a table. I watched as Steve went inside, from his gestures he was obviously telling them that I was in the car. Walt stood up and came outside.

I climbed out of the Chevy when it became obvious that Walt was on his way over. He offered me one of his Chesterfields. I said no thanks. I was polite, I thought, but he obviously noticed my mood.

"You're angry with us."

I bit my lip, undecided how to answer.

"When I first met you, Evie, I admired your loyalty to Steve. I hope we can convince you that we never meant to upset him." Calm. Civilized. This was obviously going to be a Socy conversation. If I let it.

"Do you make things?" I asked, surprising him.

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever spent time making something?" I knew he was a teacher, I genuinely didn't know if he would understand my point.

"I wrote a book of short stories. Does that count?"

"It does if you can imagine being given someone else's book for a present, because it was newer and shinier than yours."

Walt smiled slightly. "I see."

"Do you? Do you really and truly see the hours and hours that went into this –" I pointed at the Chevy. "And not just for the car's sake? Do you see that fixing up this car is what makes Steve _Steve_?"

He nodded.

"Same as his hair, or the fact that he's a greaser?"

"Or that you're his girlfriend?"

I scowled, refusing to let him believe I was being selfish. "This ain't about me. I never told him Carol didn't like me, she made that clear herself. I never talked behind her back and I tried real hard to be polite at your house. Wasn't I polite?"

Walt inclined his head.

"All he wanted was to be with her. Have a family around him. Not stuff, not cars and..." I stopped. As I told him everything, something suddenly became clear in my mind. _Shit._ Eddie and his cash. Eddie and his half assed apologies once a week, his 'no thought' present of a roll of notes. Cash on the table and coming home to an empty house. No wonder money didn't equal love to Steve. No wonder he'd kicked off when confronted with the Mustang.

I realized that Walt had been talking. I didn't know how to present my latest revelation, without seeming disloyal to Eddie, but Walt was taking the conversation in a different direction anyway, talking about what happened on their front lawn.

"...and I certainly didn't appreciate the claim that Steven's friend made about Deedee. That was uncalled for."

"He was sorry, to say it in front of Mrs Stewart, but that don't make it a lie. Soda wouldn't lie about something like that."

"I'm afraid I don't know him well enough to make a judgement on that, but I do know-"

"Let me tell you something about him then." I cut across him. I was past caring about my manners at that point. "Soda's a good guy. He's kind and caring and loyal to Steve like you couldn't imagine. He's a drop out like me, only not like me, he did it because he had to, for the money. He works full time to help support what's left of his family after his parents were killed last year. He has a kid brother who he slept next to for months and months, because of the nightmares that the kid went through. These are good people. If he said that Deedee wanted to get down and dirty in your bathroom, then that's what happened. You notice that he didn't actually take her up on it? That he wouldn't cheat on his girlfriend?"

"Well, perhaps it was a misunderstanding. Things are different these days, young people are different, more open about things. I've seen you and Steve kissing-"

"Hey! Kissing's one thing. That ain't what she was suggesting." I shook my head angrily. "Besides, if you saw us, we weren't hiding. And I _love_ Steve." I was not defending myself, but neither was I being lumped in with random, trampy, Soc girls. "There is no way I'd behave like Deedee with a boy I only just met. A boy whose girlfriend was right outside. Money don't buy morals, you know, and I'm getting kind of sick of the assumption that it does."

"That's not-"

"Because I know you heard your friend say he'd like to bang my friend Kathy, only he wasn't so polite, was he? No more'n when he talked about the rest of us."

Walt looked a little guilty. I plowed on.

"Look. I live where I live and I dress how I dress. I know people who are poorer than me an' people who are richer than me. I know greasers who're good, bad and downright ugly. But I also seen Socs who'd sooner spit on a dying man than help him. People are just people." I took a deep breath. "Please don't let her be disappointed in Steve because he wears a fuckin' leather jacket."

Walt blinked at me. "You ever consider running for office?" he said. "You certainly know how to get your point across."

I felt embarrassed, but I maintained my composure.

He nodded slowly. "I would like to apologize for my friend, Bill, and the things he said. He always did sail a little close to the wind. And if you felt uncomfortable in my house, then I'm sorry for that too. As for Carol, and how she feels about Steve..." As he looked across to the diner, we both noticed Steve come to the door and call us over.

I didn't want to. I felt like I'd got my anger out, but I wasn't convinced that Carol wouldn't set it off again. But Steve seemed happy enough, so I dragged my feet inside and sat down.

There was the usual fussing over what I wanted to drink and whether Walt wanted a fresh coffee.

"Evie?" Carol said calmly. "I owe you an apology. I'm hoping we can start again. I think I was jealous, more than anything, that you were such an important part of Steve's life."

Whoa. That shocked me.

She continued. "I was trying to make up for too much lost time too quickly, to make everything perfect – my version of perfect. I see that now."

I swallowed. Steve was watching his mom, seemed very calm himself. He was obviously buying this. I decided that only blunt honesty would satisfy my curiosity.

"And if things don't turn out perfect? 'Cause I ain't sure that's what you're gonna get," I blurted.

"No, I know that. And I think that's...okay. I think I can accept things as they are."

"Even when they're me in a mini skirt and Steve with his hair like that?" I pushed. I damn well challenged. I was ready to take her on; if she was going to hurt him again, I was ready for her.

Carol smiled at Steve. "I think I needed..what did you say, sweetheart? A 'reality check'? To see you, all of you, for who you are. Not be confused by what the papers say about youth culture."

Okay, maybe the 'youth culture' part wasn't me, but the rest sounded pretty familiar. I caught Steve's eye and he had a hard time keeping a straight face.

"I'd like to start again. Try again. Please. This is too important to lose, over something I can try to put right." Damn, but she sounded convincing. She fished around in her purse, for a little wooden box. "I was going to give you this for graduation. But, after the stupid car, I think it would better as your birthday present. I'm sorry it's late."

Steve opened the box. It was a watch. Not flashy, not even new looking.

"It was my father's," Carol said quietly. "I always hoped...one day..."

I looked from Steve, to her, to Walt and back to Steve.

Hell, yeah. That meant more to him than any fucking sports car.


	6. Chapter 6

**Well, who knew the flashforwards would be missed...Back soon. We are creeping closer in time and although there is no flashforward this chapter there is a small clue, for those who had certain suspicions. Thank you for all the reviews and support. **

* * *

_**May 1966...**_

Something strange happened as a result of Carol and her apology. Because of the watch, she brought up the subject of graduation and she turned the conversation to Prom. She asked me if I had a dress picked out. I didn't know what to say. Steve said it for me:

"We ain't going."

"Really? Do they not let dates from outside school attend? What a shame." She went on about how nice it was to dress up and how it marked an important moment, the end of school and so on.

I tried real hard to think she was being genuine and not getting in a dig about my dropping out. Steve looked uncomfortable. There was no reason I couldn't have gone as his date.

Later, in the car, he was obviously thinking about it.

"I could probably still get tickets, y'know. If you really wanted to go," he said grudgingly.

"Nah. Who wants to hang out with all those bookbusters?" I scoffed. I knew he was grumpier than ever on the subject of school. I had wondered if he was nervous about his final exams, although he would never in a million years admit such a thing.

A small part of me was glad not to be going. I was _not_ ashamed of dropping out. It was my own decision and I was still sure it had been right. But it would have been a little weird, attending what would have been my own prom, as a guest only.

I discovered why he'd been so anti-school pretty quickly, because the subject came up again when we were all down at the Dingo a few nights later. Just hanging out, looking at people's cars, dissecting people's dates, the usual kind of thing.

Soda was ragging on Two-Bit for finally graduating. Turned out Two-Bit was keen to go to Prom, but Kathy wasn't. She wrinkled her nose, called it 'kid's stuff.'

Two-Bit appealed to Steve. "Don't you think we oughta, man? We made it all the way, ain't that what Prom's for?"

"Are you kidding? All those Socs swanning around, all the freaking 'club' dweebs - the debate team, for Chrissakes! Why'd I wanna hang out with all those morons?" Steve shook his head.

"If you feel like that, why didn't you bug out when you could? You coulda been gone last semester," Two-Bit retorted. Steve glared at him. Before I could ask what Two-Bit meant, Soda piped up that Steve couldn't go, because I was a liability at school dances and they all got to reminiscing about me and Judy Milton going ten rounds in the locker room.

Kathy looked impressed, Joanne wanted details and the conversation slid sideways.

It was about an hour before Steve and I ended up alone. He came back from looking at some hood's wheels, just as Jo and Kathy went to the bathroom, with Two-Bit and Soda heading for more drinks as an excuse to escort them inside. Steve nodded his head back the way he came.

"Sammy Ford's over there, says Campbell got himself hospitalized. Totaled some sports car he boosted over to the South side, broke his leg in about a hundred places."

"A hundred places?" I said skeptically.

"Aw, that Sammy's kind of out of his tree." Steve kissed me, leaning into me as I sat on the hood of the Chevy. Then he asked me for matches, and finding I didn't have any, he stuck his head inside the car window to grab a book from the glove box.

"So," I said, as he stood back to light a weed. "What did Two-Bit mean?"

"Damn him." He clicked his tongue. "I knew you heard that." He blew out smoke, looking at me thoughtfully. "I got a few extra credits, yeah? If I'd tried I coulda graduated early, I guess."

"You guess?"

He shrugged. "Like, only a semester. I ain't Pony-genius-boy-Curtis, leapin' whole years in a single bound."

"Why didn't you do it?" Although I thought I knew. I held my breath.

Steve looked down the lot, out past the cars, towards the street. "I ain't the college type. I told you that."

"I know."

"I ain't no coward, neither."

"I know that too."

"I just figured...what you said that time, about the draft..." He looked at the Chevy tire, pretending to find something to rub with the toe of his sneaker.

I reached out and pulled him into a hug, burying my face in his shoulder. "Thank you," I said quietly. Maybe he couldn't do the full four years of college, but he'd tried to buy me an extra semester of peace of mind, by staying in school. No wonder he'd been so grumpy about it. He must have resented every damn day.

"I ain't a coward," he repeated quietly. "But, Evie, I don't wanna go."

"Jesus, you still griping 'bout Prom?" Two-Bit appeared, only hearing the end of what Steve was saying. We came apart with a laugh, because being worried about a fucking school dance was so much funnier than what we'd been thinking about.

**xxXxx**

And so, we didn't go to prom, but he aced his exams and Two-Bit scraped through, and they both graduated. There wasn't a lot of time for celebration. In fact, Steve graduated on the Wednesday and went straight to a full time shift at the DX on the Thursday.

I'd never seen him happier.

He blew his first week's wages on a party at Soda's house. We bought booze and chips and hot dogs and ordered a couple of pizzas from what he said was the best place in town, a joint called 'Ken's Pizza's', which didn't sound very Italian but which had great pizza, although he and Soda were constantly arguing about that. Soda and Ponyboy favored a little place nearer to the neighborhood, but Steve was prepared to drive over to Sheridan and 15th. I had no idea how he found it in the first place, I think maybe Eddie knew someone who worked there. The guy in the kitchen there was pretty cool and gave us free garlic bread, anyway.

Steve and Soda both had Sunday free, so Saturday night was perfect for the party and we all spent a little time razzing Ponyboy about homework. It didn't make any sense, really, since Two-Bit had never knowingly handed in any homework and Steve rarely spent any time on it, apart from when absolutely necessary, but the principle held; Ponyboy was the only one of the gang left in school. He took it good naturedly and let them tease him – the drunker they got, the less they noticed when he sneaked a beer himself and then disappeared to meet up with his own friends.

We got some music going, although any dancing was limited to me and Joanne, unless you counted the boys taking advantage of any slow songs to cop a quick feel. I stopped Steve, because I felt bad for Two-Bit – Kathy had bailed, after her brother got pretty beat up in some beef between the Kings and the Tigers. I didn't know the details, and I didn't want to, but she had to pick him up from the Emergency Room. We heard later that a kid in the Tigers was in the ICU, stabbed in the lung or something. Marshall got off lightly, compared to that. But at the time I felt bad, making out in front of Two-Bit.

Unfortunately, that meant Steve got into some kind of competition with him instead, listing their school careers in terms of detentions and suspensions and how many times they'd been paddled. I gave up listening when they got as far back as Middle School and I sorted through the pile of records, choosing something else to play.

Soda and Joanne had disappeared at some point, but I looked up as she came out from the hallway and headed for the back door. There was no sign of Soda. Steve was still deep in conversation with Two-Bit, the kind of conversation that only made sense when you'd had as many beers as them. He didn't notice me slip away.

"You okay, Jo?" I found her back at the end of the yard, leaning on the shed.

She jumped a little and wiped her eyes self consciously. "Yeah, everything's cool."

"Looks like it."

She went to say something, then shook her head.

"Did you guys have a fight?" I wasn't in a mood to let it go. She was obviously upset and it wasn't the first time I'd noticed some kind of atmosphere between her and Soda.

Joanne shook her head. "A fight I could handle. He won't even talk about it."

Whatever 'it' was. I tugged on her arm, towards the broken down, old white Ford that was a fixture of the yard.

"Here, step into my office." I opened the door and sat on the seat, sliding across so she had room to fit in. Joanne smiled and climbed after me. I nodded. "Might as well be comfortable while you tell me what's up."

She looked embarrassed. "I feel like a fraud."

"Why?"

"Back home, most people wouldn't even think I had a problem." She fiddled with a bit of loose trim on the seat, peeling it back another half inch. Then she got up her courage and announced, "I really love him, y'know."

"Well, duh! That ain't a problem." Because it was pretty damn obvious he felt the same way.

"When you...When you're _with_ Steve, is it nice?" Her emphasis on 'with' confused me for a second. Then I realized what she was asking. Hell, sex with Steve was fun, exciting, sometimes tender and mostly passionate. 'Nice' didn't really cover it. But I answered her:

"Yeah. It's nice. Why? Is it...not nice with Soda?" That was an unexpected thought.

She bit her lip, the embarrassed expression well and truly back. She shrugged. "It ain't anything. He won't."

"He _won't? _You guys didn't do it yet?"

Joanne shook her head. I was amazed. I'd seen them kiss and cuddle. I'd seen them sneak off on their own plenty of times. And this was Sodapop Curtis we were talking about. She was making it sound like it was his choice not to bang her. That didn't make any sense.

"You wanna, and he doesn't?" I checked. A terrible idea came to me. What if Soda had some disgusting disease from his one night stand days? And he hadn't told Joanne. She just said he wouldn't talk about it. Christ, I was gonna have to get Steve to ask him... I realized she was answering my question.

"I really want to. I told you, I love him. But when he found out, he said he ain't worth it, it shouldn't be him, and that was the last time he would discuss it. Now he just stops when we're making out. Like just before."

Now I was completely confused. When he found out what?

"I feel like a freak," she continued. "Like I said, back home, plenty of girls would be happy to wait. It's usually the guys putting the hard word on them." _Okay..._I was still putting two and two together at this point. Joanne sighed. "But this is 1966, for Chrissakes, it don't make me a whore because I want to go to bed with the guy I love, I mean - look at you and Kathy, you're perfectly nice people..."

I wasn't quite sure that I liked being in the same sentence as the word 'whore', even if she was contrasting me with it. But I'd figured out what her problem was.

"You're a virgin?"

Joanne nodded.

"And Soda won't pop your cherry?"

"He says he ain't special enough and I oughta wait for someone else. For whoever I marry." She burst into tears before I could respond to that startling statement. "And that means..." she sobbed. "That means _he _don't wanna marry me, don't it?"

Oh my God. What was going through that boy's mind? It was blindingly obvious that he was head over heels for Joanne. Why was he letting her think their relationship was just a stepping stone to someone else? Why would he say he didn't deserve to be Jo's first?

I had a strong suspicion I knew the answer to all that. And she used to be my best friend.

"Listen, Jo, do you mind if–" I never finished the question, because I screamed involuntarily and leaped out of the car. Joanne climbed out more sanely, laughing at my response to the mouse that had popped up out of the cracked dashboard and run towards me.

I shuddered and moved away from the car, getting a hold of myself. At least I made her stop crying.

"Can I talk to Soda? About this? I think I may know what the problem is."

Joanne shrugged. "Sure. You can't make it any worse." I hoped that was true.

Inside, Soda was leaning on the wall, watching Steve and Two-Bit play a drunken game of 'rock, paper, scissors' to which they had apparently added 'switch' and 'knuckle duster', or whatever implement allowed the winner to poke the other one hard in the chest.

"Steve, I'm just taking Soda into the bedroom in private, okay, baby?" I grabbed Soda by the collar of his shirt and pulled him after me.

"Okay, babe..._Wait_. What?" Steve called after me in half crocked confusion, but Two-Bit jabbed him and his attention, such as it was, got diverted.

"What's goin' on?" Soda said. I gave him a small shove towards the bedroom door.

"I wanna talk to you."

"Why do we need to be in Pony's bedroom?" He frowned. I looked around. There did seem to be quite a lot of books for this to be his room.

"Oh. I thought this was your room."

Soda shook his head and walked out and across the hall. "_This_ is my room. But why are we talking in private?"

This was the room I'd been in with Steve, after he fought Ricky. Looked like Soda had moved back in. Yeah. These posters made more sense. Steve had a couple of the same ones. The cars anyway. He didn't have Raquel Welch.

I folded my arms and indicated the open door. "I was just razzing Steve, about 'in private'. But I wanna talk to you about Jo."

Soda looked a bit defensive. I sat on the end of the nearest bed.

"Seems like you guys have a problem."

Soda shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and found the carpet very interesting. "She say that?"

"Yup. And it's weird to me, 'cause you guys dig each other so much."

He nodded.

"So why'd you make her think you don't?"

He looked up at me in surprise. "I didn't. I told her I love her. Tell her all the time."

"An' you also tell her she's gonna marry someone else. And that's why you won't sleep with her."

Soda dropped onto the other bed and swept his hand through his hair. "Jeez, Evie!"

"I ain't a fortune teller," I said gently. "I don't know if you two are gonna get married. But it's kind of weird to tell the girl you love that you ain't the one." He bit his lip and I stabbed home the point I wanted to clear up. "Is this because of Sandy?"

"I get it wrong." His voice was quiet. "I think I know how things are...but then they ain't. I thought I loved Sandy. Nah. I _did_ love her, in a way. But it wasn't right. Obviously. And Jo never...If I...and when she changes her mind about me...It's too big a deal to fuck up for her."

Luckily, I was an expert in deciphering half sentences, thanks to Steve.

"I get that you're worried," I said. "But you don't need to be. She wants you to be the one."

"She shouldn't. I'm an idiot. I been with lots of girls an' it never meant nothing. She ain't like those girls."

"That's kind of the point, then." I kicked him gently. "Because it means something to her. And you. She loves you."

"For now."

"Hey!" I kicked him again, less gently this time, made him look up in surprise. "She ain't Sandy. You get that? She ain't nothing like Sandy. This ain't a game for her. And so what, if you don't end up married for fifty years. Who the hell knows what's gonna happen down the line? You love each other now. That's what's important."

Soda flashed a smile briefly. I continued though, in case he wasn't quite getting it.

"I mean, it's one thing to tell her you wanna wait for the right time, even for your own wedding night. I ain't making no judgments on that, that's between the two of you. But to tell her she oughta wait for _some other_ guy? That's just mean. You might be worried about her going off with someone else, but it sounds like you're telling her that's exactly what you want to happen."

"Man, it ain't that." His comment was heartfelt.

"Well, then," I said firmly. "Tell her the truth, you sap."

He nodded. And jumped up and starting pacing the narrow strip between the beds.

"Uh, Evie? It's also, because she never...I mean...I don't wanna, like, hurt her."

"Jeez, it ain't that bad – hey, you never went with a virgin?"

Soda shook his head.

"Even _your_ first time?"

He shrugged. "She was older." There was more than a little bit of pride in his voice. I rolled my eyes.

"Of course she was. And I guess your one nighters were all...experienced?"

"Guess so. They never said different."

I rolled my eyes. "Why is there no word for 'man slut'?"

"Hey!"

I was about to shoot a comment back, when we heard Steve's voice, calling my name.

Soda got a wicked look on his face. "Wanna really send him on a trip?"

Before I could answer, Soda leaped on me, so I ended up lying flat on the bed, with him half on top of me. He threw his leg over mine and his arm across me, and just as I was protesting, Steve came in the room. He blinked at us, slightly unsteady as he stood there.

"Hey, Steve," Soda said brightly. "We were just chatting. Y'know, shooting the breeze, that kind of thing."

"Okay." Steve wobbled as he turned around and took a step out the room. "_Wait_. What?" He turned back, frowning. But Soda had jumped up in that second and was now sitting on the other bed, smiling innocently, as I sat up and glared at him.

Steve looked from Soda to me and back again.

I got up on my feet and clipped Soda round the ear. "He's messing with your head, babe," I told Steve, pulling him into a hug. That was a mistake, because he lost his balance completely and we fell back onto the bed in a heap.

Steve started chuckling as I tried to push him off me.

"Wow, I never thought your sex tips would include a demonstration," Soda leered at me.

"Shut your trap, Soda," I choked out.

"What sex tips?" Steve frowned in confusion. "Whose sex tips?"

"Your girlfriend has been telling me where I've been goin' wrong."

"Oh. Well, that's obvious," Steve said, finally letting me out from under him. We sat comfortably against the pillows.

"Really?" Soda sounded kind of shocked.

"Yup." Steve started playing with the buttons on my shirt, ignoring Soda. I slapped his hand. He grinned and gave me a beer flavored kiss.

"Randle!"

"Huh?" Steve blinked at Soda.

"Where have I been goin' so obviously wrong?"

"With what?"

Soda gritted his teeth. "With my sex life."

"How would I know?"

"You just said, it was 'obvious'!"

"Oh." Steve leaned in to kiss me again.

Soda lifted up his leg and kicked Steve in the rear end. "Steve, buddy, what'd you mean?"

"Ow! What was that for?" All Steve's reactions were a beat too slow. He rubbed his butt, with a hurt look at Soda.

"Fuckin' tell me what you meant. What am I doing wrong?"

"Apart from leavin' your girl out there, with Mathews? I think he was trying to teach her 'rock, paper, scissors, hickey'..."

Soda shot out of the bedroom at lightning speed.

"Teach him to mess with my head." Steve chuckled. "I have a high school diploma, y'know."

"Yes, you do, clever baby," I said, patronizingly - then kissed him before he could object.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks everyone, guest reviewers included. Sodasgirl, the first thing you need to do is make an account, because I can't reply to you via PM while you're only signed in as a guest. Look at a few people's profiles, by clicking on their username, you'll see you don't have to make your account too personal and you don't have to have a story up to have an account, but it would be helpful because I can't answer your questions here. :)_

* * *

_**Wednesday June 15th, 1966...in the hospital...**_

I'd had no intention of spilling to the fuzz, I just wanted their attention off Steve. So when they asked who hurt me, if not him, I said it was someone else.

As it was, the old cop clicked his tongue in irritation at my answer. "You want to press charges against this 'someone else'? You even know his name?"

I started shivering. The nurse came close and felt my forehead. Her face was kind. I only realized afterwards that she was putting herself between me and the cop.

"Where'd this supposed attack happen?" The second cop asked. I shrugged. "You don't know where you were?" he said skeptically, looking over at the doctor. "Any alcohol, or drugs?" he asked. The doctor had to look at the chart to tell him no. That pissed me off - I was here because I passed out. I'd been beaten up. I had a freaking concussion. I wasn't loaded.

The cop looked at his partner. "I still say we take the boyfriend in for questioning."

"They drove me." I had to keep their attention away from Steve. "They drove me. I don't know where."

"You get in a car with strangers often?" He was right next to the bed now.

"They weren't strangers and I didn't have a choice!"

"How's that?"

I looked up at the younger cop. "He was about your size. Think you could put me in a car whether I wanted to go or not?"

He smirked. "But you knew them?"

"One of them."

"Another boyfriend?"

I looked down at the sheets. "Before...a long time ago." I heard Sarah take a breath in. _Shit._

The two cops exchanged a pointed look, practically rolling their eyes at each other, but Sarah crossed her arms and glared at them. "It doesn't matter if she knew him or not. If he raped her, you need to find him and arrest him." Her cheeks were flaming.

I felt cold all over now. I hadn't used that word, even in my head. No one had spoken it aloud.

I said '_No, that didn't happen_', but none of them listened to me.

I know I said it out loud.

I meant to say it out loud. I think I did.

The older cop made a kind of shrug. "Old boyfriend, maybe he got carried away...You had a full relationship with him before, sweetheart, know what I'm saying? You went to bed with him? How about the gear head outside? You put out for him too?"

I couldn't answer, my head was hurting so bad.

He turned to Sarah when I stayed quiet. "No judge is gonna say it was rape if she sleeps around anyway."

"He hit her!" she objected angrily.

His eyes rested on my clothes, piled on the chair. "You know, if he was led on a little..." He gestured and the other one held up my miniskirt. "That what you were wearing, sweetheart?" They exchanged another significant look and the old one put his notebook away.

"Don't waste our time, Doc," he said pleasantly, as he headed for the door. "Save it for the real cases, huh?"

The doctor looked disappointed but I couldn't tell if it was with the policemen or me.

I knew it was me that Sarah was judging; all her lectures about what I wore and who I hung out with had been vindicated.

I slid down the pillows, curling up, pulling the jacket around me. I think the nurse said something. I know Sarah did. I didn't answer either of them.

**xxXxx**

_**Sunday June 12th, 1966...**_

Maybe I was _too_ happy. Maybe that was it. Maybe there's some kind of freaky balance shit that goes on in the universe and if you get too happy there has to be some kind of payback.

Should I have started the countdown on that day? Was that Sunday morning the first thing that should have warned me the world was about to slip sideways under my feet? It seemed like a perfectly ordinary morning when I got up; I made coffee while Steve had a quick shower before work. Good job he'd asked for coffee, for some reason all the Cokes we had left in the fridge were open, fizz completely gone.

The back door was propped open, to try and let some breeze come through. It was shaping up to be real hot, and on top of that, Sarah had been baking before she and Ma went to church. Her latest project was to make sure Tony had home baked muffins or cookies in his lunch every single day, so she usually went crazy in the kitchen on the weekends.

Steve only had to work the occasional Sunday now that he was working full time – there was some other poor high school kid who got the crappy fill-in shifts now. But there was a rush job on, some Caddy that had to be finished by Monday morning, so Steve and Soda were going in for a 'couple of hours'. At least that was the plan.

I was transferring the mugs to one hand, intending on liberating some of the cooling muffins, when I heard the screen door swing open. I knew it wouldn't be Sarah - too early yet. Ma had been doing great, what with church on Sundays and even a couple of coffee mornings in the week, that some of the church ladies had invited her along to, so I didn't think they would have brought her back so soon. But never in a million years would I have guessed who it was, for real.

"Something smells good," came a voice, like she'd just popped around for a chat. Like it hadn't been the better part of a year since I'd laid eyes on her. She grinned. "Hey, Evie."

"Sandy?" I gaped.

"Surprise." She deadpanned it, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

I was lost for words. She looked thinner, more tanned, her hair was way longer and it was just...loose, not up in any kind of do, just long and wavy.

"You look like a beach bum," I spluttered, indicating her short shorts and sandals.

She let out a peal of laughter. "Nice to see you too!"

"Oh my God. What are you doing here?"

She crossed the room and threw her arms around me. "I live here, don't I? Good ol' Tulsa, crappy ol' North side."

Did she? After all this time, did she still belong here? Did she still feel that was true?

"Why didn't you write me you were coming?" I blurted. I'd only had one letter in the last couple of months. The news that she'd had the baby, that it was done. The thing that had hit us all like a ton of bricks was now past tense.

"Looks like you were expecting me anyway." Sandy smiled and pointed at the two cups of coffee I'd dumped on the table when she'd surprised me.

_Oh, shit. _

"Look, I think you oughta – " I started but I saw her look past me, and I knew it was too late.

"Babe, I gotta die of thirst or what?" Steve joked as he came into the kitchen with his DX shirt in his hand, but his smile faded immediately he laid eyes on Sandy.

"Hey now, Steve." She smirked and I wanted to shake her, that was _so_ the wrong way to approach him.

I watched as he narrowed his eyes and shook his head slowly. I'd been surprised enough. Steve looked like he didn't _want _to believe what he was seeing.

"This the dress code here? Or is everyone walking around town half naked these days?" Sandy smiled lazily. She was too sharp not to realize he'd just got out of bed. Why would he come to my house just to shower on a Sunday morning?

Steve had obviously been about to put his shirt on, but - because she said that - he closed his fist on it and stared her out. "And you're here..._why_?" he asked.

"I've come to see my good friend, Evie, of course." Sandy was all innocence, on the surface. "Now that I'm home again, I expect we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

I moved forwards swiftly, as Steve opened his mouth to tell her what he thought of that, placing myself in front of him. "Baby, you're gonna be late for work." I shot him a significant look, turning him back towards the front door. "_Go_. Please. I'll see you later." I walked with him, making sure he went.

He stopped on the front porch, shrugging his shirt on. I'd probably pay for that later, if one of the neighbors said something to Sarah about it. He scowled. "This ain't a good thing, babe."

"So go tell him." I didn't need to say who I was talking about. "Make sure he don't find out from no one else." I reached up and kissed him.

When I got back to the kitchen, Sandy was sitting at the table, picking the chocolate chips out of a muffin and humming to herself.

"Don't do that," I warned her.

"But I only want the chocolate."

"I ain't talking about the freaking muffin. I'm talking about Steve, an' you know it."

Sandy snorted. "Ain't my fault he gets all bent out of shape at the sight of me."

I raised my eyebrows at her. Her face fell, lost the defiant look.

"Hell, Evie, do they all hate me?"

Pulling out a chair for myself, I tried to think how I could explain. I knew that I hadn't done a good job in my letters; every time she'd written back, there'd been some hope in what she wrote, some mention of home, of Soda even. Like she really had no clue what she'd done to all of us. To me.

When she asked if 'they' hated her, I obviously wasn't included in her thoughts.

"Sandy, it's been a long time." I swallowed. How was I going to say this to her face?

"Seems to be pretty fresh in Steve's memory."

"You can't expect to just turn up and have things be like they were."

"Well, no. I know that. I know the guys won't want –" Sandy shut up abruptly. She studied me for a careful second. "Oh, shit, Evie. _You_ don't wanna see me?"

"Like I said, it's been a long time...and you kind of trashed what everyone had here."

"Oh, please." She waved a hand, as if I was being too dramatic.

"I lost Steve because of you!"

"Didn't look too 'lost', just now. Looked like he'd been here all night." She pulled a face at me. "How'd you even get away with that? Thought that woulda made Sarah have a conniption."

"Well, she has to put up with it." Why was I even trying to explain?

"So you're doin' groovy. And Steve can't be complaining. Why am I still the wicked witch? If you tell me Soda's still crying into his pillow, I won't believe you."

"He's not," I said, with some satisfaction. But I was still angry that she took no responsibility for what she'd done. Christ, he had been in pieces when she left. Not to mention me.

"Got a girlfriend, has he?" she said thoughtfully.

"Yup."

"You guys double, and all that shit?"

I glared at her. She had no right to make fun of me, of us. "She's nice. Real nice. I like her a lot."

"I'm sure." Sandy looked away. "What's her name?"

"You don't know her. She came after you left."

"An' you won't even tell me her name? You think I'mma work some Voodoo on her or something?" She got a thoughtful look on her. "Unless you're worried? Unless you think he'd dump her an' come running back to me..."

"No. I don't think that."

Sandy smiled. "Okay then." And my heart sank, because I was pretty sure she'd just taken that as a challenge.

**xxXxx**

There was only one place I needed to go. Joanne was living with her uncle and aunt, in a nice house, over towards the new expressway. I presumed the construction supply trade was good. They had a newish car out front as well as a pick up.

I came right out and told her.

"Does Soda know she's back?" Her first thought was for him.

I nodded. Told her that Steve had warned him.

"She want him back?" Her usually genuine smile was currently replaced with a worried frown.

I looked at her, she was so pretty, with her dark eyes and long brunette hair, currently teased up and held back in a wide Alice band. So different to Sandy. In every way. If Soda had drawn up a list of everything Sandy wasn't, Joanne would have fitted the bill perfectly.

"Jo, honey, you have nothing to worry about," I told her. "It ain't even a problem, I just thought you should know."

She nodded thoughtfully.

And if we walked over to the DX, just in time for the guys to finish their shift, so what? We did that plenty of times.

And if we were looking particularly fine, even though we didn't have specific plans for going anywhere special, so what? Can't a girl want to look nice for her guy?

As it happened, 'nowhere special' turned out to be the Nightly Double. We scooped up Two-Bit and Kathy and hooked two spaces next to each other over to one side, leaving the doors open on the Chevy and the Plymouth, all of us talking, even switching seats, between the cars.

After leaving on a snack run, Two-Bit came back looking a little shifty, without Kathy.

"Where's my popcorn?" Steve griped, as Two-Bit handed off Cokes and popcorn to Joanne and me, jugging another couple of sodas at the same time.

"Kathy's got it. What did you want me to do, carry it on my freakin' head?" Two-Bit looked back towards the concessions. "She, ah, we...um...kind of ran into..."

_Sandy._

Kathy and Sandy threaded their way through the cars behind us.

Steve's arm tightened around me, his gaze going immediately to Soda, who was sitting on the hood of the Plymouth, next to Joanne. A small smile lifted Soda's mouth and I thanked God that Jo was turned away and didn't see it.

"Whose is this?" Kathy held out a full cup of popcorn. Steve took it from her, without a word, which was rude, but his eyes were on Sandy and so were everyone else's, so no one commented on his manners. Of course they all looked her over, discreetly. Hadn't I done it myself? Although what were we checking for? How was someone supposed to look, after they had a baby?

Kathy sipped her Coke, seemingly amused by our reactions, as Sandy said hello, perfectly calmly. She ate a couple of pieces of popcorn, then looked at the cup in her hand.

"Oh. Sorry. This must be yours?" She held it out to Soda, who was the only one without something in his hands. "Kathy's hands were full," she added, to explain why she was holding it.

"Nah. I'm good. Thanks though," Soda said politely. He reached around Joanne's arm and took a couple of pieces of her popcorn, throwing them into his mouth, one by one. She leaned back against him, ever so slightly.

"It's mine." Two-Bit took the popcorn from Sandy and put it on the roof of his car, along with his drink.

Sandy laughed. "Look at you guys. Almost like old times, ain't it? Remember when we saw that movie with Steve McQueen here and it rained?" She turned to me. "I'mma see Sylvia tomorrow, you wanna come, show me where her new place is?"

I shook my head. "No, thanks."

"That's cool. I'm kind of used to doing things on my own now." Her voice was light, although I saw a flash of something in her eyes. "Well, I guess I'll be seeing y'all around." She walked back in the direction she'd come from.

Steve muttered something under his breath. I elbowed him discreetly, shooting him a look to indicate he ought to pay attention to the fact that Soda was staring after Sandy. Before he could say or do anything though, Joanne slid down off the hood, brushing her lap free of imaginary bits of popcorn.

"I'm just gonna powder my nose," she announced cheerfully. I moved to go with her, but she shook her head slightly, so I stayed put.

Kathy chuckled quietly. "Think we'll hear the screams from here?"

"Huh?" Soda looked like he just came back to attention.

"Oh, wise up. She ain't going near the bathroom, 'less that's where Sandy went."

I had a quick memory of some of the times Sandy had defended her territory, but they seemed funny to me, in hindsight – like those young girls at The Dingo who'd tried to give Soda their numbers and who we'd intimidated easily. This wasn't funny.

Soda strode off, without a word.

Two-Bit rubbed his chin, in a gesture I'd come to recognize; he felt no more comfortable than I did about this latest turn of events, but he didn't know what to do. I decided maybe I did. I handed off my Coke to Steve and shot after Soda.

It got darker as I headed back through the rows of cars, but then the lights of the concession were spilling towards me. I spotted Soda as he caught up to Joanne.

He reached out both arms and pulled her into a kiss, as far as I could tell without either of them saying a word. She melted up against him. A couple of guys walking past whistled in appreciation. Soda flipped them off without breaking from the kiss.

When they eventually moved apart, Joanne said something I couldn't catch and Soda laughed. She stepped away, around the side of the low building. I went up to him, as he lounged on the wall, obviously waiting for her.

"She went for real," he smiled, jerking his thumb towards the bathroom doors. I smiled. Maybe we'd all freaked out too early.

"Well, I might as well, while I'm here," I told him.

"Evie," he called me back. "Did she look..._different_ to you?" He sounded thoughtful, and my heart sank some, because I knew he wasn't talking about Jo. "Only, she didn't look the same to me. I was wondering if I remembered her wrong. She wasn't..." He shrugged, running out of description.

_Oh_. Holy Cow. I grinned at him. He didn't think Sandy was as pretty as he remembered? That's why he'd been staring? Maybe he just wasn't seeing her through a sappy, lovesick filter any more. Good.

I was bouncing happily as I pushed into the ladies' bathroom. I pulled up short as I saw Joanne redoing her eyeliner, which hadn't needed it. She smiled at me in the mirror.

"Soda still out there?"

I told her yes. Told her we'd been worried she'd set off after Sandy. I was laughing about it, but she paused, her eyeliner caught mid stroke, her eyes on me for a long second. She nodded slightly, finished the line and turned around.

"Well, now. That supposes I had something to say to her, don't it?"

I swallowed. Oh, hell.

**xxXxx**

_**Tuesday June 14th, 1966...**_

When Sylvia called, I was expecting it to be about Sandy.

I wasn't worried about Soda any more, although I'd obviously got Steve to get a little more detail out of him over the next few days at work. Guys are lousy at finding out the important stuff unless you give them explicit guidance. But I was confident that Soda had no feelings towards Sandy any more. I think he'd surprised himself a little, to be honest.

Joanne? Well, I was reserving judgement. I didn't think she would face Sandy down unless absolutely necessary and since Soda wasn't interested, it didn't seem like it would come to that. I felt kind of weird, knowing that I would side with Joanne over Sandy, if it came to a fight. Sandy and I had been friends for so very long.

And I was in no way sure what things would be like between Sylvia and Sandy. Sylvia's world was completely different than it had been before Sandy left. The partying and the playing around weren't something she was going to start up again. I felt a moment's pity for Sandy. Nothing was the same for her to come home to.

But it wasn't Sandy that Sylvia was calling about.

At first, I could hardly make out what she was saying, because she was crying so hard. Then I heard her say her brother's name and I sat down hard on the stairs.

Trey.

A bomb.

Flying him home.

The fragmented words whipped around my brain. I stammered out a question, the kind of question I never wanted to have to ask.

"Is, is he _alive_, Sylv?"

She told me yes. And then she sobbed out the horrifying, unbelievable, vomit inducing, rest of it:

"Oh, God, Evie, _his legs_. His legs are gone."

* * *

**Poor Trey. Sorry. **

**And so, the return of a couple of old favorites...(?) You all know who hurt Evie now, right?**

**Serious Author's Note: Couple of points I feel I should make. The nurse was _guessing_ as to what might have happened to Evie, when she told Sarah. Rape kits were not in use in those days. But sadly, the cops' attitude to the idea of sexual assault _was_ all too common back then. **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Not a comfortable chapter. Remember the warnings at the beginning of the story, please. Darkness ahead. I think this is within the rating, but if you prefer not to read the details, the first part, down to the xxXxx line break, is before Evie gets hurt and is about Trey and people's reactions to that. The last little section will be _after_ Evie's experience and join up to the bathroom scene we started with.**

* * *

_**June 1966...**_

I had to go to work the next day. Marian was beyond cool, but she was a business woman and I couldn't justify taking a day off to be with Sylvia. It was a disgusting, treacherous thought, but Trey wasn't the only boy in the neighborhood that something like this had happened to.

I'd gone right over there and stayed the night, holding Sylvia while she cried, pouring her enough vodka to make anyone else sleep for days. Listening while she told me what the Army had said, how a chaplain had called her mom to explain that Trey had been blown up, but they'd saved his life. Told her Trey would be coming back to a hospital when he could travel. How long it would take for him to come home after that. In a wheelchair.

He'd only been in Vietnam a week.

She saw the dawn come up through red rimmed eyes. I blinked at her, as she stood at the window, looking without seeing the street below, her cigarette smoke drifting up and out.

"Sylv? You sleep at all?" I'd passed out for a while, on the couch, after Danny came in past two in the morning, when the bar closed. She shook her head.

"Evie, how am I gonna tell Buzz?"

_Oh, God. _

I needed a ride home. Last night, Tony had driven me. I'd staggered into the kitchen, where he and Sarah were looking at some square style magazine and she was pointing out some furniture she wanted when they eventually got their own place. She slapped it closed, obviously whatever couch she had her eye on was some huge secret from me.

I blurted out what had happened and said that I had to get over to Sylvia right then and there and Tony stood up and picked up his car keys without a word. On the drive over, he asked me how old Trey was and he shocked the hell out of me by cussing up a storm when I told him he'd just turned eighteen last month. I'd never heard him swear like that and I looked at him curiously.

"Are you, like, anti-war? Like, a pacifist?" I asked carefully. I'd never had that kind of conversation with him, but he seemed so...patriotic.

"I'm 'anti' destroying American boys thousands of miles from home for no good reason, you better believe it."

I felt a little guilty. My reasons for being against the war were purely personal. Purely to do with Steve and his safety. Politics was secondary to that, as far as I was concerned. But Tony had a lot to say about why we oughtn't be interfering in someone else's country. I listened to him mutter about things I should have known far more about.

"What would you do, if you got drafted?" I needed to ask.

Tony chewed his lip. "I'd like to think I got the guts to burn it."

Wow. I was surprised. "But, you're married an' everything. It ain't likely."

He shrugged, his face grim. "That don't get you deferred anymore."

Because I'd rushed right over to Sylvia's, I didn't have any gear to change into, nor a toothbrush or anything, so I called Steve and asked him to come get me the next morning, when Danny surfaced and sleepily put on a pot of coffee.

Sylvia sat at their little breakfast bar, staring at the counter top. Danny thanked me for coming over. I made him promise to call me, if Sylvia needed anything, or if she got any news.

Down on the street, I lit a weed, wondering how many I was going to get through that day. I was on my second when Steve pulled up. He looked sideways at me as he drove and I told him the details about Trey.

"Jesus," he said quietly.

"Yeah." There was nothing else adequate.

He waited while I took the quickest shower in history and threw on clean clothes. I didn't have a 'work' skirt pressed and ready, but I figured Marian would forgive me that, as I pulled on a short but clean miniskirt. I couldn't face breakfast but Sarah gave me a couple of the muffins she'd made for Tony's lunch, for me to eat later. She even gave Steve one. I guess the world had shifted a little for all of us.

On the drive to work, I told Steve about Tony saying he would burn his draft card. Steve pulled a face and didn't comment. A cold shiver rolled down my spine.

"Baby, you would too, huh? You don't wanna go." _You said that. You said that more than once._

Steve licked his lip. "No, I don't wanna go. But..."

"_But what?_ There is no freaking 'but'!" I exclaimed, panicking.

"I can't explain. It's like it would be...disloyal, to the poor fuckers like Trey who already went."

"He chose! He enlisted. That's not fair, to compare him..." I was babbling.

"And that McCloud kid, from school? Or Tommy Reed's brother? They didn't ask to go."

I burst into tears. Tommy Reed's brother had a plot not far from Dallas now.

"Evie. Chill." Steve shook his head. "I do NOT wanna go. Not in a million years. I'm just saying, if I got drafted, I would...haveta." He yanked the wheel over, pulling the Chevy to an unexpected halt and earning a blast on a horn from the truck behind us. He flipped the guy off reflexively, then threw his arms around me.

"Babe, I didn't mean to make you cry. I ain't drafted. I ain't going nowhere. We're talking about something that might never happen."

I knew that. I knew all that. But I was tired and strung out over the news about Trey and the last thing I wanted was to imagine Steve as some kind of dead hero, out of some misplaced loyalty to the fucking North Side and whoever had the bad luck to go before him.

He drove me the rest of the way to work and we made arrangements to see each other that evening. Steve kissed me for a long time, which I figured was his way of apologizing for upsetting me.

**xxXxx**

I went through the day like a zombie and when I stumbled outside at quitting time, I was already on the bus in my mind, already home and looking forward to seeing Steve. I really wanted to spend the evening holding onto him and driving any thoughts of anything else out of my mind.

As I passed the piled up trash cans and sidestepped the boxes left outside the store next door, making my way to the end of the alley, I thought I was hallucinating for a second. My breath caught in shock, but I covered it well enough.

_What in the name of all that was holy was he doing here? _

"Surprise," Ricky leered, lounging on the wall of the alley, flipping a switch open and shut. He was a walking cliché and he didn't even know it.

_How was he here? When did he get out? Why was he here?_

"An' it ain't even Halloween," I snapped, trying to judge if I could get back to work quicker than I could run out the end of the alley. I never got to make the choice. Before I could move, I felt a rough hand on my arm and the big guy I'd met out here last year was up close behind me. He stank like the nearest he ever got to a shower was spilling beer down himself from time to time.

"She's got a mouth on her. Didn't I tell ya that?" Ricky shook his head like he was disappointed. I vaguely registered that his hair was prison short. He must be fresh out. Then he smirked. "Let's go for a little drive, babydoll."

_Shit. Time to move._

I yanked my arm, but it didn't move an inch and the big guy slapped his hand over my mouth as I started to scream. His hand completely covered my mouth and nose. He was so strong he lifted me up off my feet. I struggled and kicked, but it didn't seem to even slow him down and before I knew it, I was thrown in the back seat of a battered gray Chrysler, with Ricky next to me. I scrambled for the door handle on the other side but Ricky reached out and grabbed my hair, pulling me back hard enough that I yelped.

"I missed that little noise." His blade was cold under my chin. I froze. "Drive, Lonnie," he told the big guy.

"Steve's gonna kill you," I hissed.

"He can try." They snickered. Ricky leered at me. "I'll be long gone by the time he works out what happened. I'll leave you to fill him in on how much fun we'll have had by then, huh, babydoll? It's gonna be like old times."

I cussed him every way I could. I was afraid, but I damn well wouldn't show it.

Ricky just smirked. He trailed the blade down over my collarbone, leaving a sharp, stinging line in its wake. My mouth dried as I realized he was actually cutting me. This was really happening. He chuckled. "I remember you started off feisty. Got a bit boring by the end. Be more fun if you got some spunk back. What d'ya think, Lonnie? We gonna get a little fun goin'?"

I could feel my heart beat speed up, as I remembered what the big guy had said last year, what he'd said Ricky had promised him he could do to me.

Maybe I could have thrown myself out of the car, despite the knife. I think I would have risked it, but Ricky kept his hand tight in my hair the whole drive, with my head twisted back at a painful angle. I couldn't even see where we were going.

We pulled up to some kind of storage unit, a row of old garages that had seen better days. I knew we were near the river but hadn't hit the bridge, but that was about as sure as I could be. One of the units was open and we drove right in. Lonnie pulled down the shutters behind the car, leaving us in a half light that produced weird shadows in every corner.

Although it felt like he was scalping me, I resisted Ricky pulling me out of the car, twisting and kicking while I clawed at his hands and cussed up a storm. Lonnie opened the door on the other side and shoved me, so that I fell out backwards, landing at Ricky's feet.

"Get up." Ricky kicked me in the ribs and I yelped. I stood, unsteadily, trying to anticipate what he would do. The second I was upright he backhanded me, sending me spinning against the side of the car. My hand went to my lip as I tasted blood. One of my teeth had cut the lip inside. I had no idea it hurt so much to have that happen.

Ricky laughed and that frightened me, because he was most dangerous when he was enjoying himself. But he had hit me so hard I was now out of his reach. I darted for the shutters.

I didn't get there.

Lonnie was still behind the car and he stuck out his leg, tripping me so that I sprawled on the concrete floor, skinning my hands and chin as I hit the ground, hard. He pulled me up by the shoulders, ripping my shirt seams and popping buttons.

"Oops," he said cheerfully. He carried me back to Ricky easily, with one arm around my waist. Ricky pointed to a filthy old mattress on the floor and Lonnie dropped me there.

I really didn't want to show them how scared I was, but tears were streaming from my eyes as I tried to watch both of them at once. Ricky started undoing his belt. I kind of hoped he was going to take it off and hit me with it. Because otherwise...

_Move, Evie, move. _

I stood up, wobbling on the uneven mattress, poised to run again. Ricky clicked his tongue in exasperation.

"One more for luck, babydoll?" He punched me full in the face. I went over backwards, my head clipped the wall behind the mattress and I saw stars, a wave of blackness washing over me.

When I tried to move again, I was pinned by Ricky's full weight and horrifyingly, Lonnie was just leaning on the car, watching.

_Talk my way out, I gotta talk my way out of this, _I told myself_, _as my brain struggled to work._ Come on, Evie, you've got a smart mouth, you're famous for your smart mouth. Think! _

"Ricky." My voice sounded strange, tight and muffled, as I desperately played for time. "We don't gotta do this here, why don't we go somewhere more comfortable, just you and me?"

He laughed. "Hear that, man? I don't think she wants you to play. Huh, doll? You want Lonnie to get lost?"

I nodded.

His smile vanished. "Too bad."

He produced the switchblade again and used the tip to move my shirt open.

"How about I put my initials right...here?" I felt a sharp scratch as the knife moved down past my collarbone. "Let Randle know who's really the boss? Let him know I don't appreciate being turned over to the fuzz – you can give him that message, can't ya, babydoll? Or, if you prefer, tell him to come find me. Gimme an excuse to waste him." He kneed me hard in the thigh to move my leg, clawed at my clothes. I wanted to stop him but I couldn't seem to move fast enough, couldn't seem to think fast enough anymore.

My head was spinning, little lights flickering at the edge of my vision. Without warning I vomited, splattering the mattress and Ricky's arm with puke.

He leaped up, with a roar of rage. "You bitch, you fucking bitch," he yelled, tearing off his jacket and flinging it away from him. He kicked me in the side, hard - the air whooshed out of me, leaving me gasping for breath.

Somehow I got the strength to sit up, crawl backwards a little. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth. Blood from my lip wavered in and out of focus as I looked at my hand; it made me feel faint and I fought not to black out again.

"Christ. She hit her head, man. We can't leave her here. This place is traceable to my cousin," Lonnie mumbled.

"Shut the fuck up!" Ricky snapped at him. "Put her in the car, we'll toss her out somewhere."

Lonnie whined about me getting sick in his car but he didn't argue with Ricky. I tugged my skirt down the best I could, as he yanked me onto my feet. Two of my shirt buttons were missing but I pulled it across my front, aware that one side was now bloodstained. _He cut me, he really cut me._

I was too shaky to fight back. Ricky didn't need to hold my hair this time. He sneered at me.

"You look like shit. You wanna take better care of yourself."

I barely heard him. I certainly didn't respond.

**xxXxx**

We pulled up outside a closed up second hand furniture shop, just down from the rail bridge.

"Get out." Ricky opened the door and shoved me. "Tell your boyfriend I'll put the both of you in a casket if he ever messes with me again."

The irony was, it hadn't been Steve who'd set Ricky up with the cops, who had him put inside. It had been me. Ricky had his revenge, without even knowing exactly why.

I half fell onto the sidewalk, how I balanced on my feet I don't know; the world span around me and I needed to grope for the wall. My head hurt so bad. I reached back and felt a lump from where I'd hit the concrete. It wasn't bleeding but it hurt like hell.

The air wasn't particularly cold but it stung my face and I stood there shivering as the Chrysler sped away. I knew where I was, but I couldn't seem to make my feet move in any direction. Someone was hurrying down the sidewalk and I turned towards the wall, out of the glare of the streetlight.

"Evie?" Ponyboy's eyes went the size of dinner plates as he recognized me. "What...? Who did that...to you?" The poor kid could hardly speak. God knows what he saw, what he thought.

"Here." He slipped off his leather jacket and gave it to me. He'd done some growing since I first knew him and it swamped me. I pulled it on, slowly, wrapping it around me. He took my elbow and that was what got me walking.

I don't remember a word he said, although I was aware of him talking. I don't remember walking down their street or going into the house. I don't even remember locking the bathroom door.

I just remember feeling safe in the corner, sitting with my back to the tub.

* * *

**Zap me a quick review and we can get past this and onto _what happens next._..**


	9. Chapter 9

_**Early hours of Thursday, June 16**__**th**__**, 1966, in the hospital...**_

I guess I slept a little, thanks to whatever the nurse had given me for the pain. But the meds must have worn off, because rolling over caused my bruises to complain again and I woke up. The room was empty. I lay there, looking at a mark on the ceiling, hearing the noises of the hospital going on, even in the middle of the night. Thinking about the nurse, Sarah, the cops.

I wished I was back in Soda's bathroom. Everything had seemed like it would be okay, when I could stay put, safe in my corner. The closest I could get to that feeling was to hold Ponyboy's jacket around me, try to get back the covered up feeling that I'd gotten when he handed it to me on the street.

But I knew too much had happened, too much had been said - in front of Sarah - for everything to be okay now. If she'd ignored me, if she'd said the words 'old boyfriend' to Steve, things would never be the same again. My only hope was that her prudish nature would have made it impossible for her to talk to him in detail about the nurse's suspicions.

My head was ringing with a dull ache, but it wasn't the pain that dragged me out of my thoughts, it was something more mundane; I needed to pee.

I hesitated for a second, then I inched my way out of bed. The floor was cold. I put my arms through the sleeves of the jacket, pulling it round me, not liking how exposed I felt in the hospital gown.

Peeking out the door, I saw a bathroom sign just down the hall. I also saw Steve, with his feet up on the chairs that lined the wall, asleep. I tiptoed past him to the bathroom.

The harsh lighting made the bruises on my thighs leap out in full Technicolor. No wonder the nurse had said what she said to Sarah. Ricky was such a goddamn fucking bastard. There wasn't enough profane vocabulary in the world to describe him fully, but I had a good stab at it in my thoughts. I was past frightened and onto angry now.

Although, when I was washing my hands, it took some courage to look in the mirror above the sink.

I'd had a black eye before. Also courtesy of Ricky. It seemed like a real long time ago and I didn't remember it being this bad. I'd certainly been able to disguise it with makeup. This one looked a lot more spectacular. Plus it was partnered by a swollen lip and scrapes on my chin.

I had to take a couple of deep breaths to get up the nerve to move the neck of the gown away and pull back the dressing under my collarbone. There were two straight cuts, one long and one short, but not deep, no more than scratches. Just lines. Not letters.

For one hysterical second I wondered if it would have made the cops more sympathetic, if Ricky had left evidence in the shape of his initials. I looked in the mirror again, tried to see myself as someone else would.

All I could think was, 'poor Ponyboy'. No wonder I scared him.

The chairs were empty when I made my way back to my room.

Steve span around as I opened the door. "Where were you? I been checking every half hour, I can't believe I missed you."

"The bathroom," I said, a little indignantly. I climbed onto the bed quickly, before he could approach me, but the movement made me catch my breath as my side protested.

"You okay? Should I get the nurse?"

"Nah. Just a few bruises." I tried to keep my tone light.

"Lightweight." His attempt at humor would have worked better if he hadn't had such a worried expression, standing there with his fists deep in his jeans' pockets. I hunkered in the pillows, pulling the jacket tight around me, asked him what time it was.

Steve shrugged. "One thirty, maybe? Sarah went home, to fetch you some gear."

"How come they let you stay?"

"Wasn't really no 'letting' involved."

I could imagine him arguing down anyone who tried to throw him out. He was nothing if not stubborn. That also meant he wouldn't give up on me telling him stuff. I watched him try to work out a way to ask me that would get the answers he wanted. I decided to head him off.

"It was just some drunk kids tried to roll me," I lied.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "_Some_ drunk kids?" The disbelief was clear.

"Hey, think I'd look like this if it was only one?" It was so hard to maintain a cheerful tone. It was so hard to lie to him after all we'd gone through and promised each other about telling the truth. "I guess they were after cash, or something."

Except that I'd still had my purse, and my wallet was untouched.

"What'd the cops say?" he asked, suspicious. So Sarah hadn't said anything to him. But he knew as well as I did that the cops weren't interested in greasers being jumped, not even greaser chicks. It was – _or it had been_, that was another one of the flaws in my story – just part of life in the neighborhood.

I shook my head gently. "Nothing. I think they were just in the building, for something else, an' the doc dragged 'em in. I wish I didn't get brought here."

"Are you kidding? You know how long you were out for? We couldn't wake you up. You got a lump on your head the size of a friggin' football. Darry wanted to call an ambulance, as it was I hadda carry you to the car." He chewed his lip. "I can't believe the fuzz ignored this."

I remembered how they'd been scathing about Steve. Would they have said anything to him? I asked warily if they had.

He snorted. "That Porter thinks he's some kind of detective, because he recognized me. Picked me up once for speeding."

"Once?"

He smirked. "Maybe more'n once. He's an asshole, looked like he wanted to haul me in, just for sitting in the freaking hallway."

"They figured it for a domestic. I told 'em it wasn't you."

Steve's face went from shocked to furious in a split second. "And Sarah too? That why I was getting the stink eye off her? Fuck's sake! As if..."

"_Steve_. Baby, I told them it wasn't you. Of course it wasn't you, I told them that." I felt myself getting panicky and reached out my hand to him. He came to sit on the edge of the bed, holding my hand gently, calming down again as he spoke more quietly:

"'S'okay, babe, it's all okay." He leaned in and kissed my forehead and I laid my head on his shoulder, trying desperately to relax. To get back to that safe place in my head.

"Evie, you tellin' me the truth?"

And the whole world came crashing down around my ears. I sat up.

He rubbed my arm gently. "'Cause if this was fucking Frank Campbell's idea, for when we got involved with Trey...?"

Oh. I hadn't even considered that he might think that.

"Nah. It wasn't the Shepard boys, I'd have known them. I told you. Drunk kids."

"And you'd know these drunk kids again, right? You can tell us what they looked like, so me an' the boys can teach 'em some manners."

"No. I don't want that." I was surprised how calm I sounded, to be honest. But I needed to get this right. I needed, more than anything else, to keep him away from Ricky and his threats to kill Steve.

He started to protest but I stayed firm and he had to listen because I did something underhand and I brought Johnny and Dallas into it.

We never talked in detail about what happened last September. He'd probably said more to me that night outside Buck's, after Dally's funeral - when he was totally blitzed – than at any other time. But I knew how he felt about their lives being wasted.

I told Steve that I couldn't be that sure and the idea that I might set the gang on some innocent kids freaked me out. And even if they caught up with the right ones, I didn't want them dishing out some revenge beating.

"Look at what you just said about Frank and Trey," I pointed out. "I don't want a new war started. I don't want you, or Soda, or Two-Bit, caught up in anything like that. If it gets out of hand, it'll be like Johnny and that Soc. Like Dallas carrying a gun, when he had no business to. People _died_, baby. Don't make me the cause of that all over again."

He wanted to make me happy, so he reluctantly agreed. I even got him to promise to rein in the others, if they started talking about revenge, which was likely.

And of course, I sounded convincing, because I believed all of it; I was just thinking about Ricky, not some random kids. But I was thinking about Steve more.

If I was lying to Steve, I could tell myself it was for his own protection. I _was_ afraid that if he found out this was down to Ricky, nothing on earth would stop him finding him and hurting him.

Or worse.

I _was_ afraid that if he did, he would be caught and end up in jail.

Or worse.

I pretended I was tired and eased down on the pillow. I watched as he drew a chair up to the bed, sitting as close to me as he could, resting his hand on my arm, so I would know he was there. I closed my eyes.

I thought about him hunting Ricky down and the other reason I had to keep lying.

_I was afraid that I wanted him to._

** xxXxx**

Apparently the doctor had worked out that I hadn't broken anything but he said I had to definitely stay until the morning, because of my concussion. The nurse told me when she came in and gave me more pain meds. By that time, Steve was asleep, having managed to rest his head sideways on the edge of my pillows. She'd looked at him disapprovingly when she came into the room.

"He works real hard," I defended him quietly, imagining she didn't think he should be asleep when I wasn't. She gave me a strange, almost sad, smile. She asked if I wanted to use the bathroom and when I said I already had, she apologized for being busy and not coming back to me sooner.

Her voice was real quiet as she asked me if there was any blood when I peed. I was kind of shocked, told her I didn't think so. She told me to watch for it, in case I'd been kicked in the kidneys. My brain whirled again; all the times the guys fought, I never even knew to think about something like that.

She frowned. "I want to talk to you when your boyfriend isn't here, okay? I'm on 'til eight. Don't you go without seeing me." With that she whisked out of the room.

Sarah appeared some time later and immediately got into a dispute with Steve, who woke up cranky, with a stiff neck, and wanted to tackle her about her idea that he was the one who hurt me.

"I was just looking out for Evie!" she snapped.

"But _that_? Christ, I can't believe you would think –" Steve gritted his teeth with the effort to calm down. "You don't know me at all. I would never..."

"I don't know what to think!" Sarah threw back at him, flinging her hand towards me. "Look at her. Look at what happened to her-"

I told them both to shut up and to get out while I dressed. Sarah wouldn't make a scene in the hallway. She'd brought me jeans and a sweatshirt to change into. She couldn't have gotten me more covered up if she tried.

The nurse came back as I was catching my breath after moving too quick. Throwing a sweatshirt on had suddenly become a major undertaking. I didn't need to be able to see the rapidly coloring bruise that wrapped around my side for my ribs to remind me of that.

She told me to sit back on the bed, while she laced the sneakers Sarah had fetched. I was grateful; I couldn't have easily bent down to them.

"Here. Take these until you can move easy again." She handed me a prescription for painkillers. She had another one in her hand but she sat down next to me on the edge of the bed and spoke quietly.

"Sweetie, I had the doctor write this up too. If the man who hurt you didn't use a prophylactic, you need to think about infection. You hear what I'm saying?"

"He didn't..." I stuttered, "...he didn't do..._that_ to me."

She nodded. "Okay." Her tone was calm, but she carried on talking as if I hadn't just contradicted her. "If he didn't use one, take the antibiotics. And watch your calendar. You come back for a pregnancy test as soon as you think you missed a period, okay?"

I think I forgot how to breathe. It was like someone had frozen me solid.

"He didn't." My voice came out kind of strangled.

"Oh, sweetie." The nurse put her arm around my shoulder. "It'll be okay. It's just to be on the safe side. Listen." She waited until I looked at her. "Don't you pay no mind to those cops or anyone else. This wasn't your fault. _He_ was wrong to hurt you. _He's_ the one to blame."

I slid off the bed and reached for Ponyboy's jacket, pulling it on slowly. The nurse headed for the door. She turned back.

"Can I give you a word of advice? That boy of yours – he don't need to know. When something like this happens, men don't always understand. If you ain't told him all of it yet, then don't."

It was because it was _Ricky_ that I wasn't telling Steve. She had no way of knowing all that. She was telling me what she thought men in general felt about their girls being...hurt by another man. Even though she criticized the cops for basically saying I'd been asking for it, she still thought it would affect how Steve felt about me.

She didn't seem shocked. It seemed like she knew what she was talking about.

As she went out, I picked up the second prescription and folded it small, tucking it deep in my pocket.

**xxXxx**

It about killed Sarah to accept a ride from Steve, but it made no sense to call a cab when the Chevy was right there. I couldn't face the bus, it was bad enough walking out of the hospital with people looking at me, the curiosity plain on their faces.

As we drove, I realized I'd lost track of time.

"You should be at work," I blurted to both of them.

"It's fine," Sarah said primly, from the back seat.

"Soda's coverin' for me." Steve was driving the slowest I'd ever known him go. He was trying not to drive over any bumps too. Eventually we got to the house.

"What'd you tell Ma?" It suddenly occurred to me to ask. Steve turned around to look with interest at Sarah. I thought she looked a little pale, but she did when she was tired. That would probably be my fault.

"I told her you were mugged, of course. I had to say something. That eye's not going to disappear overnight."

Steve frowned but didn't say anything.

Sarah insisted on carrying the bag with my old clothes up to the house. Steve hung back.

"Maybe I should go, see about work. I'm gettin' on Sarah's last nerve." It sounded like an excuse. But I was grateful to him for it.

"Yeah, I'm just gonna crash anyway," I lied. He nodded, biting his lip, like maybe he had more to say, but wouldn't. He came up to me, hesitated, finally kissing me on the forehead.

"I'll come by later. But you call the DX if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure, but I'll probably sleep all day," I said. _I need you. I really need you. Don't think that I don't._

"Gotta love those painkillers."

I nodded without smiling and went inside. Sarah was still holding the bag.

"Throw it all away." I said, as I went into the bathroom. Locking the door reminded me of yesterday at The Curtis's. I ran the water while I undressed, avoiding the mirror. I stood under the shower with the hot turned way up, steam filling the room, until the water ran cold.

**xxXxx**

There was always a little dance of sorts, when Tony got home from work. He'd try to kiss Sarah hello and she'd be darting around the kitchen, trying to put his dinner plate on the table before he'd had time to cross the three steps from the back door. Usually they made me roll my eyes in derision, but I barely noticed as I pushed the food around on my plate.

"How you feeling, Evie?"

I'd just about perfected a tiny shrug that didn't involve moving my rib cage, so that was what Tony got. I made the mistake of looking up and saw him flinch. The sooner my eye went back to normal, the better.

"These damn hoods are a menace. They should all be sent to the damn chair. Sorry, Mom," he apologized to Ma for using the word 'damn'. Twice. A record. I would have smiled if my lip wasn't so sore.

"It's awful," she whispered back, her face tight with emotion.

I put my hand on hers. "I'm okay, Ma. I told you. It looks worse than it feels." I saw a bruise on the back of my hand that I hadn't even noticed before. I pushed back from the table. "I'm not hungry. I think I'll go lie down."

Sarah called after me that she would bring me something later. I didn't bother to argue. I knew she would do it, whatever I said, and I didn't have the energy to get into it with her.

When she came upstairs later, I was lying down. I had the quilt pulled up some and Ponyboy's jacket over my shoulders. Sarah put a plate of sandwiches down on the night stand. My stomach roiled at the thought. She sat on the bed.

"You take your pills?" she asked, picking up the bottle and reading the label, even though she knew full well what it said. She'd been the one who went to the pharmacy.

"Yup."

"Is your head hurting?" She brushed my bangs back gently. I flicked her hand away, twitching the hair back again. She sighed. "Do you wanna...talk about...it?"

I shook my head. Not talk about it, not think about it, not believe it. That would be fine by me.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"What are you sorry for?"

"What those cops said. The doctor said it was assault and we should tell the cops and I let him. They shouldn't have said those things about you though."

"Even if you think they're true?"

"Evie!" She sounded shocked. Sad. But she didn't deny it. I waited. _Deny it, Sarah. Please_. _Please?_

"Forget it." I closed my eyes, willing her to disappear.


	10. Chapter 10

I heard Steve drive up, heard him knock at the door and exchange a few words with Sarah, which obviously included her usual snipe about his work boots on the carpet; I heard the clunk, clunk as he kicked them off in the entryway – I imagined him rolling his eyes - before he ran upstairs.

"Evie?" He poked his head around the door warily, then realized I was wide awake, although I was curled up on my bed. "Sarah said she thought you were sleeping." He came all the way in the room and leaned against my dresser. I made the effort to sit up.

"Nah, I'm awake."

He'd showered and changed after work. I knew how clean he would smell, how his skin would taste. Usually, we'd have been kissing by now, whether we'd met here or anywhere else. But he didn't come that close.

"Where's this all from?" Steve indicated the chocolate piled up on my night stand.

I told him Marian had called by after she'd closed up for the night.

**xxXxx**

_Sarah had stuck her head around my bedroom door. She hadn't been back upstairs, since she'd said what she said about the cops, but she acted as if nothing was weird between us. Maybe it wasn't. She hadn't changed her opinion and I was still who I was. Maybe that was as good as it was going to get. She smiled at me. "You got a visitor, Evie, that okay?"_

"_Sure, it's okay." Marian pushed past her, her arms full of flowers and other stuff. _

"_Yeah, I think I can stand it." I tried to smile, but my lip wasn't playing nice. _

_Marian stopped in her tracks. "Whoa, Sweet Pea, you look like a train wreck."_

"_Thanks very much," I let the sarcasm out, as Sarah made an indignant noise. _

_Marian turned to her and deposited the flowers in her arms. "These could do with water, honey, and I could do with something more interesting, if you've got it."_

_When Sarah was gone, Marian came over and shoved the rest of her armful at me, magazines and chocolate tumbling carelessly on the bed around me. __She sat down and looked at me closely._

"_Evie, darlin', what the hell?" She held up her hand as I went to speak. "And don't give me that bullshit your sister fed me. She called to say you'd be off work a while, told me you'd been mugged. But this ain't," she indicated my face, "this ain't no mugging. This looks personal."_

_I couldn't find the energy to argue._

_Marian pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Hmm. This wasn't our favorite hunk in mechanics' overalls. He don't strike me as the type. But this is down to some sorry excuse for a man. Am I right?" _

_I wondered how did she know that? _

_I couldn't answer immediately, because Sarah came back in, with iced tea for both of us. Marian pulled a face at it, when she'd left us again, said that wasn't quite what she'd had in mind when she asked for something interesting. She raised her eyebrows, still waiting for my answer._

"_It's complicated," was what I finally came up with. Genius._

_Marian snorted. "Ain't that always the truth?" She patted my arm. "I get that you don't wanna talk right now. But you call me, hell, come over to my place, if you change your mind."_

_I nodded, although I had no intention taking her up on that._

**xxXxx**

"Man, I shoulda brought chocolate, I guess," Steve pulled a face.

"I don't care." I didn't. I only cared that he was there.

He reached around to his back pocket. "Good, 'cause I brought you these instead." He held out a slightly squashed bag of Gummy Bears.

"Aw, thanks..._wait_..." I looked at the bag more closely. "Are there just orange ones in here?"

He shrugged, but looked remarkably pleased with himself. I always made a completely irrational fuss about liking the orange ones best. And hating the green ones.

"But this bag is sealed." I investigated the seal. It was stuck down slightly crooked, although it had obviously been opened real careful, for him to fake it. "How did you stick it back?"

"Chewed up the green ones and spit the goo on it," he said proudly.

"Ew!" I dropped the packet, making him laugh.

"Nah, babe, I did it with a soldering iron. I don't think you can make glue outta gummies." He shook his head like that should have been obvious.

"You get a lot of orange ones, there don't seem that many when they're all mixed in," I said, weighing the bag in my hand again. It was quite full.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that'll be why I got five open packets in the workshop. Although Soda was kind of bouncy...he might've worked his way through 'em already..."

"You gonna sit down?" I asked, seeing as how he was still propping up my dresser.

Steve nodded. But he managed to sit on the bed next to me without actually touching me. That was now freaking me a little, that he hadn't come near me.

"Do you wanna go home again?" I asked. I was all over the place in my head, but mostly I was trying to work out if I believed what the nurse had said. And if he somehow knew and that's why he didn't want to get near me.

"What? Why?" He looked completely confused.

I dropped my gaze to my hands, in my lap. "You can't even stand to touch me."

To my surprise Steve gave a little snort of laughter. I glared at him and he pulled a face back.

"Babe, I _always_ wanna touch you. I just know how much you're hurting. But, if you insist..." He kissed me and, even though he was so gentle that it was just an echo of our normal kisses, my lip felt like it was breaking open again. I jerked my head back and Steve shot me a classic 'told you so' look.

He moved his arm around my shoulders, gathering me to him, real slow, so we could lie back against the pillows. My ribs were waking up in protest as he rested his other arm across me, so he moved it lower, across my waist. I guess it almost replicated a hug, without him putting any pressure into it. I laid my head on his shoulder and held onto him. He had no idea what it meant to hold onto him.

"See? I just didn't want to hurt you. I've been on the other side of things, ain't I? I know what it feels like. You crack me up, Evie, y'know that? Why wouldn't I wanna touch you?" He meant it lightly and his tone reflected that. But something inside me twisted like a switchblade.

I thought I'd got away with it though, because we stayed there in comfortable silence for a while, Steve kissing my forehead from time to time. But then, out of the blue, he said:

"Your sister would be a crappy poker player."

I held my breath. While I'd been relaxing, he'd obviously been thinking.

"See, when we got back, she said she'd told your mom you'd been mugged because _she had to say something._ Which is a real weird way of phrasing it, if you actually were mugged. So she knows, or thinks she knows, different. Stop me any time, babe..."

I couldn't say a word.

Steve kept his voice low, but with effort. "You weren't kidding around just then, were you? You thought I didn't wanna be with you. Which also makes no sense if you only got mugged by drunk kids..._who didn't take your purse, by the way."_ He paused and I heard him swallow. "Babe, I'm tryin' real hard to stay calm here, but I think you're pulling a snow job on me. We' got a 'no more lies' deal, don't we?"

I had to make a decision and quick. 'No more lies' was right and it was real important. But I believed Ricky. '_Gimme an excuse to waste him'._ I believed that he would go all out to kill Steve if they fought again.

"I..." It was nonsense, but at least it let him know I was trying to answer.

Steve took a steadying breath. "You weren't mugged. Can we agree on that, at least?"

I nodded. He couldn't really see me, because I was still tucked into his shoulder, but I guess he interpreted it okay.

"So what the hell happened to you?"

"Uh..." I couldn't physically form the words.

"Some guy attacked you?" He waited while I nodded. "Some guy went after you? Did he...did he...?" Steve's hand slowly tightened into a fist as he tried to ask the question.

"No," I found my voice. "No. He wanted to. He tried to. But...someone went by and he got scared off, I guess." Surely that was close enough to the truth to satisfy both Steve and my conscience.

'_No more lies.' Shit._

I could feel Steve's heartbeat as I lay there on his shoulder. It occurred to me I was probably lucky to be effectively pinning him down, it was most likely stopping him jumping up and going crazy.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me? No, wait –" he interrupted himself before I could answer. "Why would you think I wouldn't wanna be with you, wouldn't wanna touch you?"

Goddammit, if I'd kept a lid on that fear, would he not have been so suspicious?

I blurted out a combination of the facts and my fears in a jumble of words, feeling perilously close to tears.

"_What?_" Now he moved, twisting his head around to try and see my face. I burrowed further away.

"The cops think I was asking for it. You know what people are like. They think girls who dress like tramps -"

"Shut up!" He snapped, making me jump. He grabbed my face – gently – and made me look at him, his voice still sharp, as he spoke, "_The fuck_ you dress like a tramp an' _the fuck_ you asked for some pervert to attack you. You hear me?" I nodded and he relaxed just a little. He chewed his lip. "That bastard Porter has got it coming now..._He said that?_ That you was asking for it?"

Oh, shit. Now I had to worry about him being pissed at a cop? He cussed a little longer about the fuzz in general and then he asked again,

"But why'd you think I wouldn't wanna be with you?" This was clearly the real issue for him.

"Some guys...some guys don't want their girl back if someone else touched..." was all I could clarify.

"_Excuse me?_ Give me some fuckin' credit!" He was incredulous. And past the point of staying still. He pulled his arm out from under me and paced the length of the room, fists clenched, turning back to look at me in disbelief. "What am I, some kind of fucking cave man that you think I would blame you, or not want you?"

At which point I burst into tears, mainly tears of relief, but with a mix of pain and tiredness and guilt thrown in. Steve was immediately sorry and came back to the bed,

"Evie, darlin', this is beyond fucked up, but I would never... _Jesus_. Evie. Stop crying, please. _You an' me_. That's how it is, remember?"

I nodded, sniffing mightily and trying to stop bawling.

He wiped under my good eye, the one that wasn't bruised. "There is nothing in this world that would make me not want to be with you. You got that? Loud and clear?"

I nodded.

"Are you really okay? Your side an' this- " He touched my face gently. "Is that it? Anything else you didn't tell me?"

I swallowed. Pulled down the neck of my sweatshirt to reveal the edge of the dressing. I hadn't been going to replace it after my shower, but the shorter cut, the deeper one, had started bleeding again.

"He used a blade on you?" Steve's eyes were dark with fury. He gritted his teeth. "This fucker's going down."

"No. What I said in the hospital, I meant it. I don't want you getting into anything because of this."

Steve rubbed his face in exasperation. "Evie, he don't deserve to be walking around. Me an' the boys are gonna have to see to him."

"No."

"Evie!" He was so frustrated I saw his fists clench again.

"No. I don't want you fighting."

"What if he does it again? What if he picks on Jo next?" Steve wasn't above emotional blackmail then.

I burst into tears again, covering my face with my hands. Not about Joanne, of course, there was no threat to her, even if he didn't know it. It just all seemed like too much trouble, right then, and I wanted to tell him. I so wanted to tell him. But as angry as he was over this, what would he be like if he knew it was Ricky? How would anything stop him tearing up the town to find him?

"_I'll put the both of you in a casket..." _echoed round my brain until I couldn't tell if it was the bump on my head or the words throbbing in time with my pulse.

Steve was slightly freaked out by my sobbing. I wasn't one to do that usually. He moved us back to how we had been, so he could hold me again. I sank against him as he told me over and over that it would be okay, everything would be okay. _Please God, let that be true,_ I thought.

I calmed down. In fact, between the emotion and the tiredness, I actually started to fall asleep.

Steve held onto me, rubbing his hand on my unbruised arm. He probably figured it was the only bit of me he wouldn't hurt.

When I woke up, we were still in the same position. I didn't know how long it had been but Steve seemed glad to stretch a little. I tried, but it hurt.

"Did I trap you there? Sorry." I moved over to give him some room.

He yawned. "Nah. I was fascinated by the newest developments in nail polish. 'No chips for a week', imagine how excited I am." He held up the magazine that must have been the only thing he could reach without disturbing me.

"Sorry, this month's 'Hot Rod' didn't get delivered yet," I said sweetly.

"Are you hungry?" Steve's stomach growled right as he asked, so I figured what he meant was 'I'm hungry'.

"Not really. But we can go feed you. You wanna hamburger or something?"

"I can make a sandwich here." He'd done it before, or I'd done it for him, plenty of times. But I didn't want to face Sarah. I was still angling to go out, while we walked downstairs.

"You're kidding, right?" Sarah appeared, as Steve stamped his feet into his boots. She'd obviously heard me and she could see I had on tennis shoes and Ponyboy's jacket. "You're going out? Like that?" She made a gesture to her own face, in case I'd forgotten I had 'beat up' written all over me. "Forty eight hours, the doctor said you're supposed to be watched for."

"Steve can 'watch' me." I said quietly. My tone must have been off, because Steve looked at me sharply.

"Yeah, I'll look out for her. I know about concussion," he told Sarah.

"I'm sure," was her catty response. I kept my eyes on the carpet.

"We're only going for takeout. Maybe see a couple of friends, over to Soda's place, they're worried about her." Steve narrowed his eyes as he worked out what Sarah's problem was. "Would you be happier if she stayed inside, 'til all her bruises are gone?"

Sarah bit her lip, because he was, of course, on the nail. As far she was concerned, there was something shameful about the state of me. About me, in general.

"Look, she shouldn't be driving around, is all, with what happened..." Sarah swallowed hard, her hand going to her mouth. Christ, she was so dramatic.

"I know what happened." Steve's bald statement surprised her, of course. She looked from him to me, her cheeks coloring up. Only I knew that what she was thinking was not what he meant, and what he thought she knew was not the same as what I'd told him. I felt slightly sick.

Steve put his arm around my shoulders, drew me to him, while his other hand opened the front door. "I ain't gonna let anything happen to her."

He just about let the door on the Chevy slam before he exploded. "Your sister is a prize bitch!"

I sat quietly. He banged his fist on the steering wheel.

"What you said, you weren't just talking about the fuzz, huh? '_People_' think chicks in short skirts are asking for trouble? 'People' like _her_? Jesus, she's your sister, Evie, she oughta -" he ran out of words.

"Thing is," I tried to explain. "Thing is, you can't know what people are gonna think, how they're gonna react. I don't want everyone knowing. Like, the guys. Don't tell the guys the details, huh? Let them think it was just a mugging. Please."

"It ain't your fault," he said through gritted teeth.

"I know. But it's still kind of embarrassing. Please."

I hated the part of me that was using the mythical sex attacker as leverage to stop him, and the others, finding out about Ricky. But it was all I could think of doing.

Even angry, Steve was still in the mood for food. He grabbed whatever was quickest from a hamburger stand at the end of the Ribbon, because he could keep the car – or more specifically _me - _ in full sight the whole time.

He drove one handed as he wolfed down the burger and we pulled up outside the Curtis house.

"What did you say to them already?" I asked, knowing he would have spoken to Soda at work.

"What you said in the hospital. Drunk kids. They ain't stupid, though."

I nodded, following him as he opened the door and strode in.

Ponyboy and Darry were watching TV. Two-Bit and Soda were sitting at the table, cards in front of them. They all looked up at the same time. And no matter that they were all determined to be big, bad, 'hoods without feelings', they still all flinched.

Two-Bit was hardest for me to handle. He hadn't been there. He hadn't been at the Curtis's when I made my dramatic entrance and exit. And whatever they'd told him, he obviously hadn't quite got it.

As he stood up, his eyes went wide and he swallowed hard. "Jesus Holy Christ, Tink," he said quietly.

"Chill out, man. Hell, if I had a buck for every time I saw one of you clowns with a bruise, I'd be a freaking millionaire."

Nobody laughed. Ponyboy was hunkered down at one end of the couch, no longer looking in my direction.

"Look, I'm sorry about all the drama, guys. Can we just forget it all happened, please?"

Darry recovered well, told me to take a seat, asked if I wanted a drink.

I sat on the couch, said yes, I wanted a beer, but Steve said no, because of the painkillers. Darry told Soda to fetch me a Pepsi and Soda looked grateful for the excuse to leave the room.

Two-Bit sat on the coffee table in front of me, his face solemn.

"Fess up, Tink. There's a chin out there with an appointment to meet my fist. All you gotta do is tell us who."

I looked at Steve. _Come on, baby, back me up._

He shook his head at Two-Bit. "No dice, man, she don't want us to."

Two-Bit shot him a look of utter incomprehension. "What are you talkin' about? We oughta be out already, hunting down the bastard that did this-"

"No." I tried to sound as firm as I could.

"No?" He looked even more confused, like I was speaking a foreign language. "There's some low life, sack of shit walkin' around out there, jumping chicks for the hell of it, an' I ain't putting up with it. Not on my turf. No way, no how."

"He's right. We're doin' it." Soda handed me the Pepsi I didn't really want, standing behind Two-Bit. I'm sure the position was unintentional, but it looked like they were lining up against Steve's opposition. I tried:

"Guys, that's real sweet of you, but..."

"I told ya, she don't want that!" Steve flared across me. They started arguing with him. Eventually he snapped. "Jesus! What I gotta do to shut you clowns down? Tell 'em, Darry," Steve appealed.

Darry sat forwards, looking at him intently. "What makes you think I disagree with them?"

_Oh my God. _I stared at Darry.

"Outside. Now." Steve grabbed Soda by the collar of his shirt and dragged him towards the kitchen, kicking Two-Bit as he went. Two-Bit shot me a small smile and followed them, and to my enormous surprise Darry went after him.

"The Dalton Gang rides again," I said as brightly as I could.

But Ponyboy didn't smile, just met my gaze with steady eyes.

"After the night when the Socs tried to drown me, and then Johnny and Dallas...I tried to pretend it didn't happen. But it did." His voice was quiet but firm. "It didn't make it go away in my head. Pretending. It made it worse."

"I'm not doin' that. I just don't want anyone else hurt." And that was the truth. Just not all of it.

He looked like he was going to say something else, but he stopped and just shrugged. I wondered if he was still freaked out by it all. I tried to smile at him.

"I'm sorry if it scared you. When you saw me."

He leaned across to put his hand on mine and squeezed, something that really amazed me.

"I'm sorry it happened to you," he said in the same calm, strong tone. I was suddenly reminded that he was Darry's brother as much as he was Soda's, for all he looked more like Soda.

The Dalton gang trooped back in. Ponyboy moved back and if Steve saw he'd been holding my hand, he didn't comment.

"Okay, my apology first," Two-Bit began. "Sorry, Tink, it's completely up to you, of course, whether anyone gets their head kicked in by us, an' I for one, will respect your decision."

Soda murmured something to the same effect. Darry just stood there, his face set in a thoughtful expression.

"My only decision is that I wanna be treated normal, guys, please? Can we just forget this?"

"Normal? Hell, okay then," Two-Bit grinned. "Get in the kitchen and cook us something, woman."

"_Normal_, I said. When did I ever cook you anything, Mathews? _You_ get in the kitchen, bring me cake!" I pretended to be outraged, but I was grateful he was trying.

"We have cake." Darry smiled and elbowed Soda.

"Jeez. Me again? What did your last slave die of?" Soda griped.

"I had him shot for back talking me," Darry deadpanned, shoving him towards the kitchen.

Normal. Yeah. That would be nice.

* * *

**So, that was easy then, just the one little lie for Evie to maintain... ;) Thoughts? Reviews? There was a definite downturn last chapter, I'd be lying if I said that didn't worry me. **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thanks so much, for all reviews and feedback. I have a feeling I know who may approve of this chapter... :)**

* * *

I looked at Steve in dismay, as we climbed into the Chevy. "You ain't serious?" He'd just told me he thought I'd sleep better on my own, so he was going to drop me home and head back to his own place. "No," I blurted. "I want you to stay with me." I made myself sit still and not grab onto his arm.

"After the way I was with Sarah? She's gonna give you a world of grief as it is."

"I want you to stay." It had suddenly become very important to me.

"I'd haveta sleep on the floor," he said firmly. "I can promise you won't thank me for rolling onto those ribs in the night. I'm the expert, remember?"

Admittedly my bed was tiny and if we shared it, there wasn't exactly a lot of stretching space.

I tried to sound calm and reasonable. "Can't I come to your house?" Steve's bed was bigger. And I wouldn't have to face Sarah.

"Yeah, if you really want. But Dad's around tonight, I think."

"I don't care." Which was almost true. But I was prepared to put up with Eddie's snarky comments if it meant staying with Steve.

Steve smirked at me, as he drove. "Okay, but I ain't calling Sarah. I value my eardrums."

And he wouldn't. I made the call from his kitchen and took the mini lecture for as long as I could stand it. Eventually I told her she had not been made a freaking doctor overnight and Steve was just as capable of looking out for me, as she was.

As I slammed the phone down, the back door opened and Eddie came in, a six pack under his arm. He deposited the beer on the table and did a double take, looking at me in surprise.

"You been in an accident? Where's Steve?" he asked, his eyes darting to the hallway.

"No, we ain't been in an accident." Steve appeared, shaking his head in irritation, before I could answer. He probably took offense at the imagined slur on his driving. "Evie was mugged." A flash of guilt went through me, at the ease with which my cover story was now being passed on.

"Are you kidding?" Eddie was immediately concerned. "Little darlin', you okay?"

"She look it?" Steve snapped in annoyance.

"I'm okay," I said, heading off a spat between them. "Just tired."

"Right, well, you need to lie down then," Steve said, taking over Sarah's doctoring tone. I saw the challenging look he shot Eddie, but my head was hurting and I was genuinely feeling tired, so I grabbed his hand and pulled him out into the hallway, before they could start sniping at each other about the fact that I was staying over.

In Steve's room, I sat on the bed and kicked off my sneakers, then eased back against the pillows.

"Don't sleep in your jeans, you'll be uncomfortable," Steve said.

Shit. I really didn't want him to see all the bruises, even with my partial lie about being attacked, not mugged. I asked him for a glass of water, the lamest thing, but the only one that came to mind. When he disappeared, I grabbed one of his t shirts from the dresser and wriggled under the sheets and shucked off my jeans. Unfortunately the switchover from my sweatshirt was too slow and Steve came back in before I got his t shirt all the way on. I held my arms across my front, defensively.

"Christ, Evie, look at you." He sat on the bed and moved the t shirt to see the bruise around my side. I kept the sheets down over my legs.

"You called me a lightweight before." I tried to laugh it off. "They ain't broke. You've had worse." I pulled the t shirt down again.

"Babe, that's not funny...I mean, you're a chick an' all...It ain't the same." I wasn't sure I could cope with his distress, which immediately made me feel selfish. But I was having a hard time juggling my own emotions. I needed him to be the strong one.

I know, I was stopping him doing the one thing that would have really helped, which was giving Ricky what he deserved. But I needed something to hold onto, something to hold me up and if I lost Steve, to Ricky's blade, or to the law if things went wrong, I would have nothing. So keeping him safe was ultimately selfish; I needed him.

I asked him to pass my purse, so I could take some pain meds, but the first prescription bottle I picked out wasn't the Panadol. Steve noticed.

"Why'd they give you these?" he asked, reading the label on the antibiotics.

And, God help me, I didn't even hesitate before I answered that it was in case the cut was infected.

I curled up – he fetched me extra pillows, to get comfortable – and Steve lay down on the edge of the bed, stroking my arm again as I drifted off.

**xxXxx**

"_One more for luck, babydoll?"_

My eyes flew open and I caught my breath, fighting for calm as I told myself I was okay. It was dark, but Steve wasn't in the room. I knew where he was though, I could hear angry voices, probably in the kitchen, since the sound was so clear through the wall.

"She don't want any trouble over this!" Steve snapped.

"Bullshit! She's giving you an excuse to puss out, you don't haveta take it!" Eddie sneered.

"Keep it down! She's sleeping."

"I can't believe a son of mine would let someone do that to his girl and not have something to say about it."

"Something to say? _Something to fuckin' say_? I wanna find whoever it was and rip his fucking head off! I wanna knock him so far sideways he meets himself coming back – "

"So?" There was a clear challenge in Eddie's voice.

"_So_, I also don't wanna upset her no more than she is. When she's had a chance to think about it, she'll see sense an' I'll find out who did this. I got people can keep their ears to the ground in the meantime. No one's getting away with this. No one's doing this to her an' getting away with it."

_Ah, damn. I really thought I'd persuaded him. Guess he was just humoring me, biding his time. Damn, damn, damn._

I heard the sound of beer bottles shifting as a chair moved and Eddie coughed.

"Well, alright," Eddie said, sounding calmer, now that he knew Steve wasn't wimping out on him. I remembered that Steve had told me, that even when he was a little kid, Eddie had encouraged him to fight back against bullies at school, or whatever. There was no 'turn the other cheek' in Eddie's mentality.

"Yeah. Alright." Steve sounded marginally cooler himself.

"You just say the word, an' I'll be there," Eddie growled.

That about blew my mind. '_Randle and Son. Revenge a speciality'_? Holy crap. I felt like I was trying to stuff fog in a bag, keeping all this under control, when just about every man I knew was hell bent on exacting retribution on my behalf. My head began to throb.

When Steve eventually came to bed, I pretended to be asleep. He lay right on the edge, giving me all the room he could. It felt like he was a mile away.

**xxXxx**

It was quiet the next morning, Eddie had gone to work, and Steve was eating his breakfast, thinking I was still sleeping. I pulled my jeans on, willing the bruises on my thighs to change color and disappear quicker.

"I hope there's coffee," I said, walking into the kitchen. Steve nodded, getting up from behind his usual mountain of cereal. _Waiter service_. That was new. I sat down at the table.

"How you feeling, babe?" He put a cup in front of me, checking out my eye discreetly. I'd already looked in the bathroom mirror. It was a little less swollen, I thought, but that was balanced out by it being all kinds of purple now.

"I'm okay," I lied and tried to believe it.

Steve wanted to drive me home. I didn't want to go home. I wanted to stay at his house and wait for him to come back tonight. I wanted to curl up on his couch and let the TV wash over me all day.

"Nah. You're still in the forty eight hour danger zone. You gotta have a babysitter."

I pointed out that Sarah and Tony would be at work. Steve shot back that Ma would be home. I tried again:

"Jeez. Take me to Soda's house. Someone'll be around, school's out." Steve rolled his eyes at the idea of Ponyboy guarding me. I was about to point out that Ponyboy had been the one to get me back to the house safely in the first place, that right then it hadn't seemed like he was younger than me, it had seemed like he was one of the guys and I was happy to think of him like that again, but I didn't want to talk about that evening at all.

I wasn't giving up though. "Soda got the morning off, didn't he say?"

"Just a late start is all."

"Two-Bit, then. Call him."

"I wouldn't let Two-Bit look after a goldfish before noon, he's bound to have a hangover."

"I'll come to the DX with you, then." Admittedly, that was desperate sounding.

"Evie, I get it. I'm pissed at Sarah too, but you can't avoid her forever."

"I'll walk back home later."

"You will not."

Running out of ideas, I refused point blank. Then he refused to go to work. Leaving me no choice.

He dropped me home. And walked me to the door. Like I was going to run into trouble between the sidewalk and the house.

"How's the lip feeling?" he asked, leaning towards me. I never realized how much we kissed, until it became painful.

I attempted half a kiss with just the good side of my mouth, making him laugh.

"You're impatient, huh?" he said, which was rich, coming from him. "Think how much you're gonna appreciate me in a week. Man, am I looking forward to that!" A week? I tried to remember how quickly he'd healed up, last time he'd had a busted lip. I figured he probably had it about right.

As I went inside, I heard voices in the kitchen, but I was still thinking about Steve and when I could kiss him properly again, so I didn't work out who it was until I got there.

"What're you doin' here?" I snapped at Sandy, who was sitting at the table, drinking Pepsi with Sarah like they were old buddies.

"Oh, God, look at you!" She leaped up and tried to give me a hug. I moved away irritably. She carried on babbling. "Sarah told me, but I never imagined...Oh, Evie, you okay? You hurtin'?"

"Go home," I said shortly. "I never asked you over."

Sarah clicked her tongue. "Evie, don't be so rude. Sandy was worried about you."

I shot Sarah a venomous look. Goddammit, just once could it not be about my manners? She knew how things had turned out because of Sandy. Any other lying, cheating, unwed mother would have been on her list of undesirables, but apparently Sandy was welcomed back with open arms. Well, not by me.

"I'm going upstairs," I said curtly and left the room. Why was she even here? Sarah, I meant. She should have been at work already.

It was a good twenty minutes before I heard the back door and then the side gate. Seriously? Sandy waited that long to get the message I wasn't coming back down?

So much for the magic forty eight hours and being supervised. I stayed upstairs and saw no sign of Sarah. She obviously wasn't that bothered.

Eventually I got thirsty and I went down to the kitchen.

Ma was on the couch, watching Donna Reed flounce about for the hundredth time. I left her to it, investigating the ice box, grabbing a Pepsi and cussing when I found it had been left with the cap off the bottle. There was another bottle, but that was the same.

"Evie, don't drink all the soda." I jumped at the sound of Sarah's voice.

I snapped back at her, defending myself. "I ain't. It's all flat anyways, who the hell did that?"

"Sorry. Tony'll get some more later."

"Great. Is there any danger he'll get Coke, or something I might actually want to drink?" I looked for something to eat. "Where's the bread? Or is that on Tony's grocery list too?"

"Don't be such a brat," Sarah sighed.

"Are you kidding? I'm only tryin' to eat freaking lunch, how does that qualify as bratty?" I slammed the cabinet door. "Why're you even here? I get that you took off yesterday, but you didn't need to skip work for me today, I never asked you to!"

"It's not actually all about you, y'know? Some things in life are not about Evie Munroe, amazing as that may seem, what with your lifestyle an' all!" Sarah's voice rose sharply.

"My lifestyle? My _lifestyle_?" I repeated incredulously, the anger inside me bubbling dangerously close to the limit of my restraint. "Are you talking about this?" I pointed at my black eye, yanked up Steve's t shirt – which I only then realized I was still wearing – to reveal the bruise on my side. "Or this? Is getting attacked part of my _lifestyle_ now?"

"You knew him! You went out with a creep like that, voluntarily - "

"I was fifteen!" I shrieked. "I didn't know he was gonna be a psycho!"

"And yet you still went right on hanging out with hoods, 'cause you weren't fifteen when one got shot, nor when Buzz freaking Richardson was sent to prison! How close did you come to his drug dealing?" she yelled right back.

"Why have you gotta be such an uptight bitch all the time?" I yelled, way past any sense of reason.

"Why have you got to be such a selfish little bitch?" she shot back. "You don't listen to a word of advice, you stay out all night..."

"I was with Steve! I wasn't on the street corner looking for a John!"

"You dress like it! No wonder -" She clapped her hand over her mouth.

It went very quiet.

I swallowed. "No wonder...the cops said I was asking for it?" I bit my tongue, blinked hard to stop the tears I could feel welling up. I looked at the bottle of flat Pepsi in my hand, watched in surprise as it left my grip and flew across the room, to smash on the wall next to the sink, pieces of glass sinking into the puddle of soda that slid across the counter top.

I ran upstairs, adrenaline letting me ignore my hurts. I stuffed a handful of things into a bag, grabbed Ponyboy's jacket and ran downstairs and out the front door. If Sarah called after me, I didn't hear her.

I started walking. My breath was coming in short gasps, as if I'd already run a mile, but I refused to cry in the street and I just walked. Just concentrated on one foot in front of the other, again and again. I stopped after a block, after a girl went past and stared at me, curiosity all over her face. Pulling on the jacket, I tried to find the safe place in my head, to convince myself that I was okay.

I didn't think I could make it all the way to the DX, I needed somewhere closer. I turned down King Street and knew where I was heading.

When I got there I stopped. Weirdly, I'd never done this by myself. I'd been there with Steve dozens of times, of course, but I'd never walked up the steps and into the house without knocking when I was on my own. So I hesitated.

"It's open." Ponyboy's voice made me jump. He appeared in the doorway, pushed the screen open, stood aside for me to go in past him.

"You do know it's always open, don'tcha?" he asked me seriously. I nodded. He frowned. "No one's home. Ain't Steve at work with Soda?"

"_You're_ home," I contradicted him, "and, yeah, I know they're at the DX. I just wanted...to get some air and then I was here. Is that okay?" 'Getting air' didn't really explain the bag I had with me, but he shrugged.

"Don't bother me." He dropped onto the couch. "I was watching TV."

"Can I join you?" I indicated the other end of the couch.

"Help yourself." He was very like Soda when he smiled, like when Soda smiled a genuine smile anyway, not the 'chick magnet' effect. Maybe he'd grow into that yet. I didn't know how old Soda had been when he started using his charm deliberately.

I sat down, wondering when I'd be able to fling myself down without thinking about it.

"Oh, sorry. You want a drink?" Ponyboy sat up, remembering his hosting responsibilities.

I told him maybe later. He nodded, his attention back on the screen. I curled into the corner of the couch, letting the TV program run its course, enjoying his response to the jokes more than the humor itself.

When the show finished, he got up to switch channels, but didn't find anything he was interested in watching. I suggested he try the radio.

"You ain't gonna make me listen to chick music?" he griped, although I spotted a twinkle in his eye as he switched on their radio.

"What's 'chick music'?" I pretended to be outraged.

"Leslie Gore!" He shuddered.

"I knew you were gonna say that," I teased.

"How?"

"'_That's the way boys are..._'" I sang at him.

Ponyboy clapped his hands over his ears and gagged. The radio had warmed up and within a couple of notes I knew what was playing.

"Don't you touch that!" I threw a pillow in his direction as he moved towards the dial. Then I caught my breath in pain at moving so fast.

"Jeez, alright, you're into these guys. I guess they dig okay." He left The Kinks telling us 'You really got me' and handed me back the pillow. "Ribs?" he asked.

"Just bruises." I tucked the pillow back under my arm. "Don't tell me, you got experience too?"

"Nah. But between football and fightin' I seen most of 'em laid up at one time or another. Johnny had four busted one time...that was the worst, I think." He held my eye for a second and I knew better than to ask whether it was football, fighting or family that did for Johnny's ribs.

The song finished, replaced by The Rolling Stones.

"You're in luck. No chick music on this station."

"It's early yet." He didn't sound hopeful.

I smiled to myself, remembering Johnny telling me that he messed with the stations, just to mess with Ponyboy's head.

"Johnny really dug this song," he said, as if he was reading my mind.

"You still miss him." I didn't make it a question, I didn't need to.

Ponyboy nodded, his voice quiet. "I dream about him sometimes. Like, not nightmares, not any more. Just normal stuff, like if he was here for dinner. I don't know if that's worse, to be honest. Remembering again in the morning that it ain't true."

I wondered, from the way he said it, if that happened with his parents too, in his dreams. How cruel, to have to lose them all over again, when he woke up. Then I remembered waking up last night, Ricky's voice echoing in my mind. _"One more for luck, babydoll?"_

"You dream about...what happened to you?" he asked quietly.

I nodded.

"Yeah, well, I know about those kind of dreams too. Like I said yesterday, it's worse if you pretend stuff didn't happen. You gotta get over it, to get over it. You know what I mean?"

"Not really."

He frowned, real serious, and I had another reminder that he was Darry's brother. "Like..." he started slowly, "...like you _give_ the bad thing power, if you let it affect you. It sneaks up on you that way. You gotta face it head on and tell it to piss the hell off."

My surprise must have shown on my face.

"I can cuss," he said defiantly.

"Obviously," I agreed. "Better not let Darry hear you."

"Where d'ya think I learned most of it? You should have heard him the time the washer spit water all over the floor."

I smiled.

He smiled back and switched from looking like Darry to looking like Soda.

**xxXxx**

I didn't know how long I'd been asleep. The small table lamp was on, but the rest of the room was shadowy. I lay for a couple of seconds, feeling surprisingly refreshed. I even smiled to myself, that I'd now joined the long list of people who'd slept on the Curtis's couch. No wonder their pillows smelled like pomade.

I heard voices outside and realized it was late enough for everyone to be home from work. I felt a little guilty if I was keeping them from their dinner, if they were hanging out in the yard so as not to wake me. I was on my way to tell them they could come in, when I heard my name mentioned. I stopped dead in the kitchen, just out of line with the screen door.

"What's a rumble got to do with Evie?" Steve said, quieter than quiet.

Ponyboy's urgency made his voice rise a little. "Not a rumble. I ain't talkin' about that kind of fight."

"We defend. We take up for each other. You know that, kid." Two-Bit's whisper was like distant thunder. "We stick together."

"But, sometimes. Sometimes you gotta take the fight out there, right? Go on the attack. To stop something worse happening."

Darry spoke up next. "What do you mean?"

"Do you think if we'd found those Socs, when Johnny got beat up, if we'd taken care of them...he'd never have had to carry a knife? Never killed Bob Sheldon that night? You think about that?"

I wondered if this was my fault. If I'd got Pony thinking about Johnny and Dallas earlier and now he was going over it all again, as a result.

"Yeah, things might have turned out different that night." Soda sounded concerned. "But if we'd fought them earlier, maybe I'd have been hurt, or Steve. Or a different one of them. It would never have been good."

"_Different_ though. It could've stopped it all earlier. If he'd told us who they were. If someone had stopped Bob earlier, the other things wouldn't have happened. No fire. No rumble. No Dallas..."

"Pony, what's gotten into you? Why're you going over all this now?" Darry sounded worried.

"If we could've taken out that bastard, before he hurt Evie, we would, wouldn't we? You know it wasn't no mugging."

They were all quiet. I held my breath. Ponyboy carried on and, with a sinking feeling, I knew where he was heading.

"And if you found him now, you would. Even though she said she don't want you to? Because he might come back. Hurt her again."

"It ain't likely." Darry tried to explain. "Creeps like that just take a random opportunity..."

"No," Ponyboy interrupted him.

"'No' what?" asked Soda.

"It wasn't random."

"Ponyboy." Steve's voice was very, very controlled. "Get to the fuckin' point."

Ponyboy swallowed. "I know who it was."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I know, this is a very quick update, but you were all so fantastic about reading/reviewing last time, I thought it was only polite to kill the suspense! ;) (If you didn't review the last chapter yet, please still feel free to do that, it makes me happy to know what worked.)**

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I stood there like a freaking statue and I listened as Ponyboy told them that when he found me, I had in fact, talked to him. Said it was Ricky who hurt me. I had no clear memory of telling him anything, but to be honest my recall of the whole evening was pretty shaky.

Ponyboy told them that I'd been rambling about Ricky's threats. Saying that Ricky would kill Steve, kill me, if anyone went after him. He'd expected me to tell them and now that he realized I wouldn't, he couldn't sit on the information any longer. They all reacted forcibly, variations on two themes:

"What the fuck is he doin' out the cooler?"

"Where do we find him?"

Soda physically restrained Steve at one point, by the sound of it. I think Steve was going to hurt himself, punching the wall, maybe.

There came a moment of quiet. I imagined them all out there, wondering what to do next. I walked outside. They were grouped around the bottom of the steps, Two-Bit and Darry leaning on the old white Ford.

The weight of their stares was enormous and nearly broke me.

"You should've said." Steve said through gritted teeth.

I nodded. "I was frightened."

His voice began rising in anger. "I get that. But you should've told me. I _can't believe_ you didn't tell me."

"Hey!" Two-Bit glared at him. "You ain't mad at _her_, you stupid fucker."

Steve's eyes opened a little wider, like Two-Bit had slapped him. He swallowed, took a step towards me and then stopped, looking at the dirt as he shoved his clenched fists in his pockets. That was not good.

"I'm sorry," Ponyboy's face was awash with guilt as he spoke quietly. "It's just..." I could see it was tearing him up, but also that he could never have kept this from the guys. _Stick together_. It was in their blood.

"It's okay," I told him. "I understand. I do. I didn't even know I told you, I guess I...forgot. I never meant for you to have it as a secret. But, please - " I looked around at all of them. "You got to understand something too. You got to understand that I'm still frightened. He is capable of really hurting anyone who goes after him. I don't want that. An' I don't want any of you hauled in for it, neither. That's why I wasn't tellin'."

"Not because you don't want him taken down, then?" Two-Bit asked carefully.

"No." I looked at my feet, my voice shrinking away. "_Because I do_." I admitted what I'd been trying to keep out of my mind all this time. "I hate him. I really do. I'd hurt him myself if I thought I could."

"Then let us."

Dear God. Out of all of them, it was Ponyboy who said it. I shook my head.

"He said he was leaving town. Going out of state. That's enough. I mean it. It has to stop somewhere." There was no great rush of agreement, so I pushed the point. "_Please_. Promise me, all of you." I had to be satisfied with the grudging nods and grunts. Obviously not one of them was happy about it. Steve remained silent the whole time.

I sat down on the top step, my eyes on Steve. I was aware of a headache building up, my brain starting to drum in time with my pulse.

Darry nudged Two-Bit and dragged Soda by the elbow, taking them with him, past me and into the house. Ponyboy scurried after them, apologizing to me again as he went past.

After a long moment, Steve's eyes came up and fixed on mine. "No. More. Lies."

I nearly threw up.

I'd seen that look on his face once before.

He took a couple of steps closer. "No more lies. Evie, that was the deal. No more _fucking lies_!" He yelled the last couple of words, making me jump.

I nodded. "I know. I know that. I'm sorry, baby. He said...he said..." I swallowed hard. "I was scared."

"I understand 'scared', Evie. Four goddamned Socs an' me with a busted bottle, remember? What I don't understand is how you lied to me about this?"

"Because I don't want you to get hurt -"

"Me? _Me_ get hurt? Look at what he did to you, babe."

I clung to that, to the fact that, even in his anger, Steve called me 'babe', he still called me that. But then his face twisted in disgust.

"Or is that even the whole truth of what he did? 'Cause I know this bastard, remember? I spent a night downtown with him in the next freaking cell, mouthing off about what he wanted to do to you..."

"You never said," I objected weakly.

"How many?" Steve ignored me, stepping closer, his fists clenched, his jaw tight. "How many guys did he have with him?"

My heart was racing as I babbled, "It was just the driver. Ricky couldn't drive and keep me in the car..."

"THE CAR? WHAT FUCKING CAR?" Steve roared.

I jumped up and fled inside the house, through the kitchen and into the front room. I ran flat into Two-Bit, who caught me and held me upright by the arms as I tried to get past him. Steve was right behind me, but Darry stuck his arm out and stopped him in his tracks, holding onto a fistful of Steve's DX shirt.

I vaguely registered that Joanne must have turned up, because Soda left her side to get up in front of the wild eyed Steve, telling him to calm down, trying to keep him where he was. Ponyboy jumped to his feet, with a horrified expression on his face, moving towards me and Two-Bit, as I fought back tears.

"Get a grip, Randle," Two-Bit snapped.

"Get a grip? Are you fucking kidding? Get off me, Darry." Steve swatted at Darry's arm, without success. "Get a grip on what? The fact that Evie was happy to let that prick walk around with no comeback? That – "

"I ain't _happy about it_!" I spluttered.

Steve pushed at Soda, ranting as he did so, "You know what he said, man, I told you what he threatened to do to her an' now I find out it was him all along, with his twisted gang rape fantasies -"

"Steve!" Just about every one of them yelled, with the exception of Joanne who gasped and looked appalled.

"_Why didn't you tell me_?" Steve screamed.

"Maybe because she knew you'd react like this," Darry slapped Steve hard around the head. Steve bellowed with rage and launched himself bodily at Darry, propelling both of them back against the wall.

With yells of dismay, Soda and Ponyboy leaped forwards to intervene, both being buffeted sideways before they could separate the pair of them, Soda receiving an elbow in the head that made him shout out.

Two-Bit went to help him up, and just about had space to yank Ponyboy back as Darry and Steve rolled, fists flying.

I stumbled backwards, my headache threatening to explode my skull. I grabbed my bag and Ponyboy's jacket, hitting the front porch at a run that nearly sent me spilling down the steps. Catching my balance just in time, I flung out of the gate and down the sidewalk, randomly picking a direction to turn, moving as fast as I could.

"Evie." A hand on my arm made me squeak in surprise. For the second time, Two-Bit steadied me.

I looked around him, wildly, but it was just him.

"Come back inside, Tink, huh?" The pity in Two-Bit's eyes was almost more than I could take. I shook my head.

"I can't...I don't want any of...that...I wanna go..." I mumbled. Shit. I wanted out of all the drama, but I couldn't go home. Not with how I'd left things with Sarah. And now, with Steve selfcombusting, what were my options? Where was I safe?

I pulled on Ponyboy's jacket, tucking it round me. Even then, I felt my breathing speed up, like I'd been running. I shook my head at Two-Bit, walking back a couple of steps. "I need to go. I just gotta get out of here, need to..." I told him, nonsensically grasping at random words.

"Hey. It's okay. I hear ya." He fell in beside me as I continued down the road. "Wherever you wanna go, is fine by me. Nice evening for a walk, anyways, that's what I was thinkin'..." As he yakked, I realized what he was doing, he was talking to me like I was a spooked horse or something. Guess it worked, some, because I calmed down a little bit and got to looking around, trying to work out which direction I'd taken.

"You wanna go home, sweetie?"

I shook my head. And then I remembered I did have somewhere I could go. I wasn't sure how far it was though. I asked Two-Bit, told him the address. He smiled.

"Well now, it just so happens you're about half a block from a fine mode of transportation, which can get you anywhere you like. If the wind's in the right direction."

I stared at him, not understanding. He pointed to the end of the street ahead.

"That's my house. You wanna see if the rust bucket'll play nice for us?"

I stayed silent as we made it to the Plymouth. Both doors opened first time which wasn't always a given and the engine only made a small complaint when Two-Bit turned it over, having retrieved the key from under the floor mat.

As we drove, he asked me where we were going and why I had the bag with me. I told him I'd had a fight with Sarah. Not why.

"Uh huh? Bad day all around, I guess," he commented.

"Bad week, really," I said, hearing the catch in my voice.

Once we pulled up outside the apartment building, he turned to me. "Tink, this is tough, I can see that. But you know, you shouldn't be too hard on ol' Stevie, he's only all riled up because he cares. That's his way, y'know that."

I nodded, looking at my lap. I wanted to believe that. But I was remembering the look in Steve's eyes as he yelled at me.

Two-Bit cleared his throat. "Hell, it's all of our way, I can't tell you I wouldn't've been as mad if it was Kathy this happened to. I felt pretty close to it when I saw the state of you. Even the kid wants to punch someone's lights out, and he ain't been like that since...For a while."

I leaned my head on the window. I just needed somewhere quiet to not think about things.

He nudged my arm. "Hey, it ain't like a state secret that you're here? I can tell...people?"

I shrugged, knowing exactly which _people_, which _person_ he meant.

"Evie. I don't wanna ask, but -" This time his voice was real quiet. He rubbed his chin, before he came up with the question. "Y'know, what Steve's afraid of? When that asshole threatened before, to let his guys at you?"

I swallowed, aware that I was flushing, my cheeks, my neck reddening. "No. There was him, an' one guy, Lonnie, did the drivin'. Ricky knocked me around some, you can see that. That's all." I looked up, looked him in the eye. "_That's all_."

Two-Bit studied me for a second, then he smiled briefly. "Okay."

I paused with my hand on the door handle. "Do you think Darry hurt Steve?"

"I hope so."

"Two-Bit!"

"Aw, I don't mean it. Just that, maybe he needed some sense knocked into him, y'know." He sighed. "I'mma head back that way, see who did what to who, and how hard. Okay?" He patted me on the shoulder.

I nodded.

"Two-Bit?" I had to ask him one more favor. I had to know if that display back at Soda's was pure, unthinking rage or whether it meant something more. "Ask Steve...ask him, if 'nothing in this world' is still true."

Because if I'd broken the 'no more lies' promise, was it possible he couldn't hold to what he'd said? '_There is nothing in this world that would make me not want to be with you.'_

Please let that still be true.

Two-Bit waited while I went up to the second floor balcony and knocked on the door. I waved to let him know I was okay. He waved back. I turned around as the door opened and I burst into tears as Marian said,

"Sweet Pea, what's up?"

**xxXxx**

Being at Marian's was a little like being on vacation, I thought to myself. She believed in two things as a cure for just about anything, I'd discovered; long hot bubble baths and wine. She had these wine glasses that were like huge globes of glass, so big I all but needed two hands to hold one.

I wasn't that used to wine. I'd tasted it before, but vodka was easier to disguise and beer was more easily available and both of those made up the majority of my alcoholic experiences. But I figured I could learn to like it.

Marian sat me down on a low red couch and herself in a matching round chair and, once I'd stopped bawling, she started to prise out of me what had happened. When I'd got a little of the way into the story of who Ricky was and why he'd done this to me, that was when she got up and poured us both glasses of wine, swallowing a large portion of hers quickly.

"And this disgrace to humanity used to put his hands on you, when you were dating?" she demanded.

"Not so bad as this. But he was horrible."

"They never change," she muttered. "But you must've just been a kid? This was before you came to work for me?"

I nodded. "I was dumb. I thought he was tough an' he had a cool car. I didn't know he was like that."

She gave a short laugh. "Hell, they don't usually slap you on a first date. Mine waited for the ink to dry on the marriage certificate."

My eyes widened. Marian shrugged. "Husband number two. 'The pig', as I like to call him. And I was considerably older than you, to be so dumb. I was just looking for...something I missed. I don't think he was ever the nice guy I wanted him to be, that was just my wishful thinking." She shook herself. "Enough about my mistakes. You looking to stay? 'Cause you can take that jacket off, y'know."

I'd forgotten I was wearing it. I slid it over my arms. The panicky feeling didn't hit. Whether it was the wine or just being at Marian's place, I felt relaxed.

"Can I stay? I can't go home. And I ain't sure I can go back to Steve's," I confessed. And that meant I would have to tell her the rest. Without tears. I had to get a grip. I told her about how I'd tried to keep quiet about Ricky and how angry Steve had been.

"_Evie_. What do you expect, somebody beat up on his girl, he's bound to... Evie?" She peered at me closely. I took a large gulp of wine.

"I didn't tell him all of it," I confessed in a rush. "I didn't tell him all of it, because the cops said it was my fault and Sarah thinks that's true, but I think he knows and the nurse said he wouldn't want me no more but it was really because it was Ricky and I didn't want Steve to get hurt..." The contents of my jumbled mind spilled out.

"Whoa. Whoa." Marian came over to the couch, sat by me. "Sweet Pea, what are you talking about? The _cops_ said it was your fault?"

And once again, out came the nasty, insidious comments and once again I tried to believe I was talking about something that happened to someone else.

"Oh!" She put her arms around me. "Oh, no. You don't listen to that. You do not fucking listen to that!" She hugged me gently. "And this is what you and your sister argued about?"

"She don't understand why I dated him in the first place. Hell, she thinks Steve's a hood half the time. She thinks I am a slut. She said I dress like a hooker. I can't go home."

"And what makes her so damn special? She never had a dodgy boyfriend?"

I snorted. Told her Sarah had married her first and only boyfriend, that they'd dated from the age of fourteen.

Marian pulled a face. "Then she don't know enough to judge. Come on, smart girl," she held my chin up as she spoke quietly. "You know yourself better'n that. You think you deserved this?"

I shook my head.

"Then you got a few choices. Let this bastard have some more power over you, by letting this destroy you. Or rise above it. Put the blame on him and move on with your life."

I stared. Could it be that easy? It sounded awful like what Ponyboy had said. _'You give the bad thing power, if you let it affect you'. _

If you let it.

Marian was watching me closely. "Sweet Pea, you can choose to get past this. You ain't Fast Eddie's girl. No more'n I am, or most of the women who had something bad happen to them."

Marian and I had exchanged detailed opinions on 'The Hustler', along with plenty of other Newman movies. I remembered being scathing about the girlfriend who killed herself, after she slept with the other guy. I remembered saying – months ago, another world ago – that no man would ever make me feel life wasn't worth living.

There was an expectant look on Marian's face as I processed that. I nodded and she reached for her wine glass to clink it against mine.

"Good girl."

I was practically falling asleep when the phone rang. Marian had let me stretch out on the couch, thrown a blanket over me and curled up back in her round chair. She let me talk. She let me be quiet. I answered what she asked and she wasn't shocked, or judgmental or anything. She was someone I was very, very grateful to know right at that point.

The phone jangling made her cuss a little as she climbed onto her feet and answered it.

"Yup. You're who? Oh...How the hell you get this number, boy?" She rolled her eyes, leaning on the breakfast bar. "Yes, I'm in the freaking book, wise-ass." She held her hand over the receiver. "Your boyfriend is a wise-ass."

I paid attention. Marian frowned at the phone.

"It's kind of late, why don'tcha let her sleep on it?" she told him. She held the phone away from her ear, turning to me again. "If this is his 'polite phone voice' you got your work cut out. You wanna talk to him?"

I wasn't sure I was brave enough to hear whatever he had to say. I guess that's how I looked. She spoke to Steve again.

"Come by in the morning. She needs to sleep...What? Okay, I'll tell her...I _said_, I'll tell her." She put down the phone and smiled at me. "He said to tell you '_nothin' in this world'_, whatever the hell that means."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thanks to all guest reviewers. No side fics, as yet. Mariah, it's okay to be confused, Evie doesn't always tell the truth ;) **

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Whether it was the wine or because I'd finally got everything off my chest, I actually slept a few hours on the couch. Marian turned out not to be such a believer in breakfast, but she waved a slice of toast under my nose, although I welcomed the coffee more. There was a knocking at her door just before nine.

Marian held the front door open and let Steve in, commenting archly, "Well, looky here. Looks like you two are gonna be a matching pair in the eye department."

And he did have a black eye coming. His jaw was red and swollen on one side too. He looked relieved to see me and came right over to the couch, but just as he went to sit down, Marian clicked her tongue.

"Did I ask you to sit down, young man?"

Steve straightened up again, clearing his throat. "No, ma'am."

"Hmm." She folded her arms and studied him. "What did you come to discuss with this young lady? 'Cause I'm here to tell you, if it don't include a whopper of an apology, you ain't staying."

He looked mighty surprised, but answered her warily, "Yes, ma'am."

"Plus -" She came closer, staring him out. "If I find out you cause her any upset, and I mean _any_ upset, I _will_ come find you and you _will_ answer to me. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am." This time he nodded too.

"Hmm." Marian looked him over again. Then she grabbed her purse from the coffee table and headed for the door. "I find I need to run to the store for a few minutes. But you mind what I said, y'hear? And –" Before he could say anything, she held up her hand, adding, " - stop calling me 'ma'am'. I ain't old enough to be...Hell, maybe I am, but it would've been a scandal, even at my school...Leastways, I _ain't_ your mama, so stop making me feel old!"

Steve smirked. "Yes, Ma - rian."

She shot him a warning look, winked at me and left us to it.

"She sure is one of a kind." Steve shook his head, turning back to me. "You got any objection to me sitting down?"

I shrugged, which he took as an invitation, sitting on the other end of the couch.

"Listen," he started, his voice quiet but steady. "I kind of worked out what I gotta say, so can I just say it, before you yell at me -"

"I don't want to yell at you."

He blinked. "Oh. Okay. Well, anyways, I got-"

"Why'd you think I want to yell at you?"

"Jeez, Evie, let me say it, will ya?"

I bit my tongue, motioned for him to carry on.

"Look, I do owe you an apology, an' not just because Marian said so. Or anyone else." He frowned and I wondered who else had been on his case. "Because I know it myself, because I didn't oughta yell at you, not like that. I know it." He sat forwards, his elbows on his knees, staring at his hands. "I knew it then, but I just couldn't stop, I was so mad. I could see I was scarin' you, but I couldn't stop." He sighed. "I feel like maybe I'm missing the off switch, that other people got, or something. I'm sorry for that."

Wow. Someone had been doing a lot of thinking. I loved him for it, deep in my bones.

"Steve?" I waited until he looked up at me. "I'm sorry I lied to you."

Next thing I knew, we had our arms around each other and we were kissing. Then I said, 'ow', because of my lip and he said, 'ow' because of his jaw and we were laughing instead. Steve pulled me onto his lap – carefully - and we held each other. I touched his face.

"Darry give you that eye?"

He shook his head. "Soda," he admitted, looking embarrassed.

"_Soda_ hit you?"

"He was kind of pissed that I hit Darry."

"You survived hitting Darry?" I wasn't joking when I sounded shocked.

"Just about." Steve rubbed his jaw.

"Did Ponyboy hit you too?" I couldn't help asking.

Steve pulled a rueful face. "Nah, but he let rip exactly what he thought of me. Sure has got a way with words, that kid."

"So, you off the Curtis Christmas card list now?"

Steve shook his head. "Nah, things are cool again. With them."

"Who ain't they cool with?"

He looked evasive. "Jo was mighty snaky 'bout me bruising her best boy, I didn't mean to, he got in the way, is all." He thought a second. "Did she never see us fight before? She was kind of...shocked."

"_I _never saw you fight before, not like that, not with them."

"Yeah. I was kind of..."

"Mad at me?" I finished for him.

He put his hand up to my face, his voice determined. "_Not _you. I promise. Mad at...the situation. Not you." His eyes kept mine fixed as he spoke, calm and slow, "But, Evie, darlin', I think maybe you're still lying. See, I know what you want me to think. But I also know it don't add up. Not now I know it was_ him_."

I tried to get up, get away from him, but he held me tight.

"No. I'm _here_, Evie. Listen to me. I meant what I said. Nothing in this world would make me not want you. I ain't going nowhere. Look at me." I was turned away, but he repeated the request, something like desperation in his voice. "_Look at me_. I don't deserve it, after yesterday, but _please_. Trust me."

I didn't say a word, I couldn't. I could see what he thought he knew, twisting in him, see how it burned. He held my gaze through sheer force of will. But I didn't speak.

He didn't insist I answer, just pulled me down into a hug, so my head rested on his shoulder.

"I promise, it don't change anything between us." His voice was almost steady. He was real close to keeping it steady. He was fucking strong.

"I love you," I told him, holding onto what he said, as tightly as I held onto him.

"Me too, babe. You have no idea. Me too." He rested his head down on mine. He sighed, long and low. "You tell the cops it was him?" I told him no. Just that it was an old boyfriend.

"That made it worse," I admitted. "Apparently you can't expect a guy to restrain himself, if he already...I mean..."

"Christ! The fuckers never get it right. Did you know Mrs. C called 'em on Johnny's dad once? 'Not a crime to discipline your own kid', they said." He cussed a little, but then was quiet and just held me.

And we were still there, a long time later, when Marian came back into the apartment, having run out of imaginary errands.

"Well now, I didn't hear no dishes breakin', so I'm hoping that's a good sign?" she drawled.

I smiled at her, as we moved apart a little.

"Good. Y'know, I see something in you two..." she waved her hand. "Never mind me. What do you want to do now, Sweet Pea? You know you can stay here, long as you like, but that couch ain't very comfortable for sleepin' on."

"I can't go home," I said firmly.

"Why? This about Sarah? Two-Bit said you two had a fight." Steve was curious, of course. I nodded. Details later. He raised his chin. "You come home with me." I opened my mouth to say something about Eddie, but Steve got in first. "Dad's gone for the rest of the week. We got the place to ourselves."

"You sure?" I checked.

He nodded. "'Sides, my house too, ain't it? Hell, he was even trying to talk to me about the insurance policy or something, the other day." He rolled his eyes, to show what he thought about that.

**xxXxx**

"So you don't got to go in for Marian, all week?" Steve unlocked the front door to his house and pushed it open for me. I shrugged.

"Up to me, she says. I can always work in the back room, if I still look all colors of the rainbow."

He frowned. "Nah. I think you should take some time. I can ask for a coupla of days, we'll hang here."

"That's crazy, Mike won't give you vacation, why would he, when you only just went full time?" I watched as he locked the door behind us. It was mid morning. Sunday. Was it only a week since Sandy had turned up?

"Soda can always use a few extra hours an' the new kid will pitch in."

"Dean? You said he was useless."

Steve pulled a face at me. "I exaggerate. He's okay. You want to lie down?"

I was confused for a second, then caught on, he was trying to look after me. I told him no, I did not need to lie down. "I ain't ill," I objected.

"You need to be careful, with concussion. I know this stuff."

I marched into the front room. "I'm fine. No headache even." I sat on the couch and waited for him to join me. He went to fetch drinks instead.

What I'd felt the other day, in my bedroom, was nothing compared to the twist deep in my gut as I watched him try the TV, the radio, finally put a record on. When all I wanted was for him to sit with me.

I knew that he'd demonstrated how he felt, he'd held me plenty at Marian's, hell, he'd said it loud and clear, but I couldn't stop my imagination spiraling down into a place where he didn't want to be with me again.

Steve turned from the record player, saw me with silent tears brimming over and flew across the room, wrapping an arm around me.

"What's the matter, babe?" There was worry and confusion in his voice. Nothing hidden. No lurking motive to keep his distance.

I pushed the tears away, feeling foolish beyond belief, tucking into as tight a cuddle as I could. Steve settled us back, dragging his leather jacket – which was tossed across the back of the couch – towards him and digging in the pocket with his free hand. He came up with a pack of weeds, but cussed a little when he had to get up to retrieve a lighter from a drawer in Eddie's desk. He was quick to get us settled back in the same comfortable position though.

He lit a cigarette and passed it to me. At that point, I reminded him that Eddie hated smoking in the front room. The ashtray on the coffee table was purely ceremonial.

"Screw him. He won't be back 'til Thursday or Friday. I can open the windows." He lit another for himself.

We listened to both sides of the album, then Steve declared he was hungry. In the kitchen, he made sandwiches the size of house bricks and we took them out on the back porch to eat.

It was quieter at his house, not as much traffic noise as there was at mine. I commented on it.

"Is it? I never thought about it." He cocked his head as if he was listening.

"I'd like to live somewhere completely quiet. Unless it was the beach. With just the sound of the waves." I don't know where that thought came from, but it popped out of my mouth. Trains and traffic had been the soundtrack to my whole life, maybe I just wanted a change.

Steve snorted with laughter. "Where you going? California? Or maybe Hawaii?"

"Don't you wanna see the ocean?" I asked.

He shrugged.

"If you could live anywhere? Where would you want to go?" This had suddenly become important to me, although I couldn't have said exactly why.

"Hell, I never went anywhere out of state but Independence, up to Kansas, where my aunt lives. I don't know where's good." He stretched out, having demolished his sandwich and more than half of mine. Then he looked at me, a little cheekily. "Daytona. They got a beach. I could live there."

I rolled my eyes. "Ain't quiet though, is it? So I won't be there."

"Oh. Fuck, was that some kind of test? Was I supposed to say, 'Anywhere you are, babe, that's where I want to live'?"

"No." I shoved him lightly. "No test. I'm interested."

"Good. 'Cause you just failed the test too. You were supposed to say, 'Oh, baby I'll come live with you in Daytona.' Not, 'I won't be there'."

"I don't say 'Oh, baby' anything!" I objected, repeating the sappy tone he'd used.

Steve nodded, sighing, like he was real hard done by. "I noticed." He stood up, automatically picking up the plates. He couldn't quite break Eddie's clean freak rules, unless he put his mind to it. "I'mma take a leak," he announced, gesturing with the plates that I should go inside too.

"Thank you for the information." I pulled a face and didn't move.

He waited.

"What?" I asked, "You want an audience?"

"Evie. Come inside."

I followed him, curious. I watched as he shut the back door behind us. His hand went to the key, but he realized I was looking. As I opened my mouth to speak, he shoved the plates at me, said,

"Stick these in the sink," and left the room.

I ran some water over the plates, thinking. I decided to push the point and go back outside. He couldn't really think something was going to happen to me on his back porch, could he? He was acting like he could hardly let me out of his sight.

I must have turned too quick, or something, because I never got to the door. A wave of dizziness crashed over me, little spots of light dancing inside my eyes.

"Christ!" Steve caught me, as my legs folded. He scooped me up and carried me to his bedroom, muttering how he knew he should have made me lie down.

"I'm fine," I protested. "Just a bit dizzy, is all."

"Exactly," he said, liked I'd proved his point. I went to sit up but he scowled at me. "You ain't moving."

I did feel quite tired, so I let him win. He sat down with his back against his dresser.

"Are you seriously gonna watch me lie here?" I asked. "Don't you got something to play with on the Chevy?"

He shook his head. It degenerated into a staring match. I was losing, when there was a thump out front, shortly followed by the back door opening.

"Randle, you around?"

Steve surrendered from the staring match to go see Soda. He shot me a look that was obviously designed to keep me where I was.

"Man, why is your front door locked? You knew I was coming over," was Soda's aggrieved comment. "Oh. Were you guys...?"

"Don't be frigging stupid," Steve hissed. I tiptoed towards the kitchen.

I heard Soda ask: "You talk to him yet?"

A snort from Steve could only be interpreted as a negative response.

Soda exhaled. I wasn't sure if he was sad or annoyed. "Well, how long you gonna leave it?"

"He was the one said what he said!"

"You were pretty out there yourself, man, what you said to him...You don't think that for real?...Steve?"

"No. I guess not." It sounded like the admission was dragged out of Steve painfully.

This time I distinctly heard Soda click his tongue. Annoyed then, or at least getting close. "He wouldn't. No more'n you'd undercut him with Kathy."

_What? _

"Well, one of y'all needs to speak first," Soda insisted.

Steve huffed.

I walked into the kitchen. Soda was lounging against the kitchen table, tapping his thumb on his leg.

"Hey! You're meant to be resting!"

I waved away Steve's comment. "What'd you fight with Two-Bit about?"

"Nothin'."

I shot the both of them a scathing look. "I ain't deaf and I ain't stupid."

Steve darted a glare of his own at Soda that plainly signaled _this is your fault_. Soda shrugged, unrepentant, his returning stare equally obviously saying _and what you gonna do about it?_

"Why didn't you bring Jo over?" I demanded. "I ain't standing here looking at you two hoods blow kisses at each other all afternoon."

Steve turned his attention back to me. "You ain't standing there at all. You're supposed to be lyin' down."

"I did that," I said sweetly. He advanced on me. I backed up and darted into the front room. "Look, I'll lie on the couch. You can wait on me all you want. I'll be Gina Lollobrigida, an' you can be my slave. See - " I made it to the couch. "Queen of Sheba, that's me."

"She the one cut the guy's hair off?" Soda inquired, leaning in the doorway, as Steve folded his arms and looked at me crossly.

"Nah, that was Hedy Lamar," I told him. "Same kind of deal with the dresses. And the slaves. You find one of them big fan things and stand over here." I indicated how he could fan me from behind the couch.

Soda laughed. "You wanna hang out? I'm going over to Jo's, but I could bring her back here."

I nodded, even though Steve started objecting.

"Oh, come on," I complained. "It'll be a gas, we got the house to ourselves. We can just hang."

He relented and Soda begged the key to the Chevy off him, to fetch Jo.

Steve came over and sat down on the edge of the couch. I scooted over a little for him to fit and he put his hand on my unbruised cheek, asked if I had a headache. I didn't, much, but he seemed to be suspicious still. I told him I still wanted to know what he and Two-Bit had argued about.

"Don't you say 'nothing' again," I warned.

"He told me...what he thought of me yelling at you." The admission was unwilling, and I noticed he changed what he'd been about to say. I wondered exactly how forthright Two-Bit had been.

"And," I prompted, "what'd you say to him?"

"That's between him and me."

I frowned. "I don't like the idea of you having bad blood because of me. Can you call him, please?"

"No."

"Please. He could come over with Kathy, we can all hang tonight." I put a certain amount of wheedle into my tone.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Later, alright? I'll call him later. You shouldn't be partyin' it up, anyways."

"You just don't wanna clean the house before Eddie gets home," I teased.

"Hell, we definitely ain't having the kind of party needs 'cleaning up'." Steve slid onto the floor, keeping his hand on my arm. There was room for two to lie on the couch, I knew, we'd done it before. But he was still treating me like I was made of glass. I reached out to touch his cheek gently under his black eye.

"That's coming out real good. It hurt?"

He shrugged. "Had worse. Soda didn't exactly put his full weight into it." I wondered if that was by luck or design. I didn't know how anyone had the presence of mind to pull a punch, if they were mad enough to lash out in the first place.

Steve was looking up at the ceiling, from his position on the floor. He pointed at a dip in the plaster-work. "The door must've been over there at some time. That would make more sense, wouldn't it?"

I considered. "Someone wanted a longer run of cabinets in the kitchen. If the door was there, it'd split the wall."

He thought about that. "But you could run a counter-top around further, if the icebox fitted on the other side."

"Can we redesign the rest of the house?" I smiled. "I think you oughta have a door out back from your room, like onto the porch."

"Nah. If we're remodeling, I'm having the attic made over, like your room, for sleepin' , and then I'mma put my pool table in the back bedroom."

"_Your pool table_?"

"Yup. The one I'mma buy with the imaginary money left over from the imaginary remodeling." He scoffed, running out of patience with the make believe. I liked it though. I was quite happy to lie there, thinking about a house we could call our own, in some time we wouldn't both be nursing a black eye and I wouldn't have to remember why.

* * *

**Btw, anyone noticed that when Steve gets emotional, he turns into his dad a bit? 'Cause he usually calls her 'babe', right? **


	14. Chapter 14

When Soda and Joanne arrived, I was surprised to see her with an overnight bag.

"Are we having a sleepover?" I smiled.

"Nah. I got the impression from Soda that you maybe left home in a hurry, I brought you some stuff."

We went into the bedroom as I thanked her.

"It's just a few things I thought you might not have picked up." She held up a ladies' razor. "I got brothers. They don't like if you do your legs with their razor." I hadn't got around to thinking about that, but I probably would have pinched Steve's, so I guess she saved me from pissing him off about that. "Um, I brought you some...supplies. I don't know if it's that time..." There was a box of tampons in among the toiletries. She shrugged, embarrassed. "Seeing as it's a 'men only' house, y'know."

I swallowed hard. It wasn't quite that time of the month, but I was grateful to her.

Jo looked around the room. "Why do they do that?" She pointed at the hubcaps on Steve's wall. "Just like Soda. Is that supposed to be ornamental or something?"

"Souvenirs of a good night out?" I guessed. "More to the point, why do they –" I shut up. I'd been about to laughingly comment on the centerfold, but I suddenly realized she was gone. I looked around stupidly, in case it had come loose and fallen down, but there was no sign of her.

"No Raquel Welch?" Jo asked, her mind had obviously been travelling a similar route.

I shook my head. "I don't think he likes her as much as Soda does." Joanne snorted. "Oh?" I asked, "Did you object to Raquel, make him take her down?"

"No, why would I do that?"

"I get a lot of grief from Steve because of that big picture of 'Hud' on my wall. He says it puts him off. I wondered if you and Soda made a pact to take down your posters."

She wrinkled her nose. "Soda ain't been in my room to see who I got, my aunt would have a heart attack. Not Newman anyways, too pretty."

That made me laugh. I sat on the bed, chuckling. Joanne didn't see anything funny in telling me she didn't like 'pretty' actors when she was dating the best looking boy in town. Well, the generally acknowledged best looking boy in town. I was more than happy with the view on my own dates.

"Anyway, nothing to be 'put off' from," she said shyly.

"Still? I thought – "

"Oh, no, it's all good. We talked. We're just.._waiting_ now. For the right time."

I thought back to the conversation I'd had with her, when she'd been so upset, taking Soda's refusal to sleep with her as meaning he didn't see a future with her. She wasn't upset any more, but they were still waiting? I wondered what exactly they had talked about. Especially in the last week, since Sandy had reappeared.

"Evie? Are you okay?" She was peering at me and I realized we hadn't really covered the fact that I was attacked. Her face was creased up in a frown now, as she surveyed me.

I nodded. "I'm okay. My lip hurts if I drink my coffee too hot, but it's all getting better." I wasn't going into detail about my cuts. Or anything else. I just wanted the bruises on my face to disappear and stop reminding people that it had happened.

"Soda told me, this was an old boyfriend of yours. He must be a first class asshole."

I nodded again. "Steve got in a fight with him last year. This was pay back." It seemed a simple enough explanation.

Joanne bit her lip thoughtfully and I realized Soda had probably filled her in on the whole 'getting Ricky fingered to go inside' story. "Talking of fights, Steve hit Soda, y'know," she said, her tone aggrieved.

"I don't think he meant to," I tried to excuse it.

"He was pretty wild."

"Soda blacked Steve's eye!"

"In self defense. Steve would have really hurt him. They're supposed to be friends."

"Hey, you got brothers. Don't tell me they never fall out?"

She pulled a face. "They do. But I never saw anyone as mad as Steve was. He nearly beat Darry, you know. It took Darry and Soda both to calm him down. I thought Ponyboy was going to have to sit on him too!"

I knew that Steve and Soda were all made up again. But the way she spoke made me slightly nervous about the other two Curtis boys. And there was one more issue I wanted details on. I asked Joanne about Two-Bit. She shrugged.

"I was in the kitchen, putting ice on Soda's head, when he came back. I heard them shouting some, but I didn't go find out what exactly they said." She didn't sound like she was spinning a line, so I guessed I'd have to wait a little longer to get to the bottom of what exactly went down between Steve and Two-Bit.

But the evening progressed without the subject coming up. Soda and Jo left pretty early, thanks to Steve's heavy hints that I needed my rest. Leaving me to sneak over to the phone, while Steve was in the bathroom. Thankfully Two-Bit picked up right away, so we were done talking by the time Steve reappeared, although he caught the end of the conversation.

"What the hell did you just do?" Steve asked sharply, coming into the kitchen.

"You ain't missing work – missing pay – when there's someone else I can hang with." I was so reasonable, I deserved a medal. "I agreed with ya that I wouldn't be on my own tomorrow, didn't I? Everyone else is at work." Technically, Ponyboy was coaching a kids' athletics camp over to the middle school this week, but he still wasn't around to babysit me on Monday morning.

"I told you I'd call Mathews later."

"An' now you don't need to." It was an obvious bluff call; he'd had no intention of following through, I knew it, he knew it.

Steve switched tack. "I don't want him here. He'll be hung over an' fall asleep on the couch - you'll end up looking after him."

I had a suspicion that might actually be the case, but I was getting mad too, by that point. "Are you telling me who I can and can't hang out with, now? Are you telling me who I can be friends with?" And for some reason my voice broke a little. Guess I was more on edge than I'd realized.

That shocked him some and he backed down. But he wasn't happy.

I was trying to time my meds so that the pain killers kicked in as I went to bed, but they wore off and I woke up in the early hours of the morning again. I felt kind of uneasy, but I didn't think I'd been dreaming about Ricky.

Steve was gone again. I knew he didn't sleep well when he had something on his mind. More than once before I'd found him staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night, so as not to wake me. Seemed as though recent events had pushed him even further.

There were no lights on as I padded out of the bedroom, but I smelled smoke and turned towards the kitchen.

The back door was open and Steve was sitting on the doorstep with a lit weed burning away in his hand, tapping his foot like he was running instead of just staring out at the darkness of the back yard.

**xxXxx**

If I had hoped that being face to face would bring things to a head between Steve and Two-Bit, I was out of luck. Because the weirdest thing happened, Monday morning. Steve got dressed for work. Steve left for work – once he was sure I wasn't going to be on my own, because the Plymouth had pulled up out front. But they didn't speak to each other. Two-Bit didn't even get out of his car until Steve was in the Chevy. And they sure as hell didn't wave, or even acknowledge each other.

"Morning, Tink." Two-Bit looked remarkably awake, for so early on a Monday morning. Clean shaven, bright eyed. Like he'd already had coffee, even.

"What the hell is going on with you two?" I demanded, as I closed the front door behind him and he strode past me.

"Who two?"

So he was going to be as irritating as Steve about this. I scowled – or at least I did my best to scowl, without splitting open my lip. Not having a full range of expressions available was beginning to piss me off, for sure.

"Is there breakfast?" Two-Bit beamed at me. "Eggs, maybe? Bacon, even?"

I followed him into the kitchen, where he immediately started rooting through the ice box.

"Two-Bit.." I put as much warning as I could into my tone.

"What? Don't tell me you ate already?" He looked around at the cabinets. "Ol' Eddie still runs a real uptight ship, huh? French toast?"

I folded my arms. "I ain't cooking you French toast."

He laughed. "Hell, you don't know how I like it. _I _will be cooking the French toast." He found the skillet and started setting up. "Breakfast food is my specialty. You want more'n cereal in my house, you cook it yourself. What with my ma working late nights, she ain't what you'd call a morning person. "

"And you are?" I pointed out the obvious issue with his statement.

"I like to eat, if I never went to bed in the first place. No one said you hadda sleep first, to eat breakfast."

I opened my mouth to tell him it was implicit in the word 'break- fast', but then I realized he'd done a perfect job of diverting me from my original question about him and Steve. I went out on the back porch, my cigarettes in my hand, although I didn't light one. I was finding that happening a lot, thinking I knew what I was going to do, then changing my mind.

I tried to ignore the noises from the kitchen, so as not to imagine the mess that was being made.

"You eating out there?" He stuck his head out the door.

I tried to tell him I wasn't hungry, but he ignored me and shoved a plate into my hands. There was a weird arrangement of triangles leaning on each other, standing up on the plate, like some demented pyramid.

He came out with a plate for himself and a pack of sugar in his hand, waited for me to say something.

"Thank you." Seemed the required response.

"Snow?" he inquired solemnly, holding up the powdered sugar. I shook my head and he doused his own plate liberally instead. "It snows a lot in Paris." When I didn't say anything he rolled his eyes like I was stupid. "It's the Eiffel Tower, dummy. 'S'_French_ toast." He crammed one of the walls of his tower in his mouth, still smiling.

Actually, it tasted okay.

"You done?" I only had to nod for him to inhale what I'd left – with extra sugar. "You eat less than the squirt," he commented, with his mouth full. I had met his kid sister once, when he'd been taking her out for burgers and we'd run into each other. She was only a squirt in Mathews-land. She was about Ponyboy's age, but already tall. Way taller than me. She had Two-Bit's coloring too, I figured his hair would be the same red as her ponytail, if he didn't keep his darkened with pomade all the time.

Two-Bit dug in his pocket for a lighter and lit up a weed, lounging on the back porch steps. He seemed in no hurry to clean up and I wasn't looking forward to whatever state he'd left the kitchen in.

"How you doing?" he asked. "You look like the eye's moving along." That was true, the bruising was shifting to blue-ish around the edges already.

"I'm okay," I told him, neglecting to mention yesterday's dizzy spell.

"So, what shall we play today?" he asked lazily. "I could show you where Randle hides his skin mags."

"Ew! No, thanks." I pulled a face. "You're disgusting."

"Yeah, that's what my ma said this morning."

I frowned. "Wait. I thought you said she wasn't around in the mornings?"

He looked a little shifty. "Well, she was this morning."

And then it hit me like a freight train, full on. "Shit. Two-Bit, it's your birthday!" I felt awful. I felt like the worst friend in the world. With everything the last few days had thrown at me I'd completely forgotten.

Two-Bit crinkled up his eyes, sheepishly. "Yup."

"Oh my God. I can't believe I forgot. I'm so sorry. Happy Birthday!" I went to hug him, but he waved me away.

'S'okay. Ain't like it's an important one. Ain't nothing I can do today that I couldn't do yesterday. Nineteen ain't nothin', it's all downhill from here."

"Did you have plans with Kathy? Man. I can't believe you didn't say when I asked you to come over today." I felt like an idiot and an inconsiderate one, at that.

He leaned back on the porch rail. "Nah, she's busy. Haven't seen her in a couple of days." He looked casual, but something in the way he said it sounded off. Kathy didn't work, apart from the odd babysitting gig. She got her money in pretty much the way Sylvia used to, before the bar job, before Buzz went inside; her brother passed her his spare dough when he had it, which was often enough. Kathy never went into details about how and where it came from and I never asked.

"She working today?" I was hoping that minding the neighbors' kids was the reason she wasn't with her boyfriend on his birthday.

Two-Bit shrugged. "Nah, unless you count Marshall as a baby. She's doing something with him."

"That sucks. On your birthday."

He hesitated. "Well, I guess I coulda gone too, but I kind of burnt that bridge." I waited. I thought that he got on with Kathy's brother. I definitely remembered Kathy telling me that Marshall dug him. Two-Bit tried for a real nonchalant tone as he told me what he meant. "Had me an invitation, coupla weeks back. Turned 'em down. Said I already had a lousy outfit to bounce around with."

I blinked, absorbing this news. Two-Bit was asked to join the River Kings? _Holy shit_.

"Course, that was before your main squeeze decided to piss me off. Royally. Maybe I'll change my mind."

"You ain't serious? What happened between you two?" I was confident of an answer this time, since he brought the subject back up.

"We had a frank exchange of views."

"I figured that much. Who hit who?"

Two-Bit looked a little surprised. "Neither of us, actually. The dynamic duo had already made their points. I hate to hit a man when he's already down."

"So you just argued? Told each other off? What?"

He shrugged. "We had words. It'll shake out eventually."

"You ain't serious, about the Kings, because of Steve?" I needed to check. He shook his head, smiling at me, like I was a complete idiot. He finished his weed, tossed the butt towards – but not quite _into_ – the old coffee can that served as an ashtray on the porch.

"You know how long I been following Darry Curtis around? Since I could walk. Our moms hung out when I was a baby. Mrs. C was just about the only person helped Ma out back then. I was always tryin' to catch up to Darry. An' then there was Soda and we was a gang, right from then. I wouldn't go over to the freaking Kings, what'd ya take me for?" He wasn't really annoyed, it was an amused question.

It did make me think though, about how awkward it might be for him, hanging out at Kathy's house, with Marshall, not to mention Adam Murphy, maybe the rest of their boys, around the place. It would be like one of the Curtis boys dating Tim's sister. That made me smile. It was kind of like how all the kings and princes in medieval Europe used to sort out their beefs, marrying off their daughters to get a bigger turf. Maybe I should point out that I knew that, to Mr. 'I passed History, got my High school diploma' when he got home.

That brought me back to those two. I couldn't believe they hadn't spoken this morning. It was my fault, no matter which way I tried to think about it. Steve getting so mad was because I'd lied about Ricky attacking me; Ricky attacking me was because I'd interfered last year. Steve had ended up fighting with his best friends because of me. It was all down to me.

"Tink? Hey. Jeez. Evie?" Eventually I heard Two-Bit's concern and realized I was crying. I'd ended up hunched over, hugging my knees, head down, without even realizing. He shifted across the porch, a little nearer to me. "I ain't going over to the Kings, I was only kidding about Steve pissing me off," he said urgently, which threw me for a second, because that wasn't exactly what I'd been thinking about. He looked real worried, his hands twitching like he didn't know what to do, until he settled for rubbing his chin.

I wiped my face inelegantly with the back of my hand, told him it wasn't his fault, that he should ignore me.

"You got decent painkillers?" He was obviously still trying to work out what had set me off. I said yes. He nodded. "Good deal. No point in playing around with aspirin, if you need somethin' stronger. It fucking hurts to get worked over, don't let anyone try and tell you otherwise."

I raised a fairly convincing smile. "Christ, you guys act like it's nothing."

"Yeah, well, we're all liars!" He grinned at me. Then he stood up. "Wanna watch TV?" I waited for him to hold his hand out, to help me up, but he didn't.

I stood up slowly, just in case. I hadn't felt dizzy again, but there was no point pushing my luck.

"Hey, it's time for my favorite show." Two-Bit checked the clock over the fireplace in the front room. "Oh, nah, twenty minutes yet." I looked at the time. I knew what would be on at eleven; thanks to Ma, I pretty much had all the schedules by heart. For years, TV was the only thing she ever talked about, almost like the people were real friends of hers. I thought about the main choices, dismissed the morning soap as not being Two-Bit's bag.

"Andy Griffith?" I guessed, but he shook his head. That left...I stared. "_Supermarket Sweep_ is your favorite show?"

"Sure. It's like research. You know how many blind spots those places got? I like to work out how much I could lift before the time's up." He looked deadly serious, but I couldn't be sure.

I left room for him on the couch, but he chose to lounge on the floor, leaning back on the armchair until it was time to change the channel. He crawled over to the set, then resumed his position and instructed me on the finer points of stealing from supermarkets, pointing out spots on that day's store that were easily accessible. I guess it really was research.

I was thinking about what happened outside and realizing what had been nagging at me since Two-Bit arrived. Since I'd got to know him, since right back when Steve and I started seeing each other, Two-Bit had been friendly to me. That had only increased. I hadn't been making it up, when I challenged Steve on whether he was stopping me being friends; Two-Bit _was_ my friend. And he was the kind of guy who hugged. He'd thrown an arm around my shoulders on countless occasions – when he was amused by something, when he was pleased about something and for sure if he ever thought I was upset. But not today. Today he had actively _not_ touched me.

I put my head down on the arm of the couch, curling up. Thinking. Trying to come up with one single thing in my life that wasn't trashed by what had happened with Ricky.


End file.
